Lauraine Snelling - [Red River of the North 02]

by A New Day Rising

  But she loved being out in the field, turning the sod, raking the hay. She looked up to see Haakan’s gaze on her face. What was it she saw in his eyes, in the quirk of his mouth?

  Decisions, decisions. So many decisions to make.

  They finished the haying on Saturday. Three haystacks now stood guard beside the sod barns on both Bjorklund homesteads. After the Baards waved good-bye and headed home, the Bjorklunds finished their chores—Lars had now taken over the milking—and settled down with their second cups of coffee.

  Ingeborg leaned her elbows on the table, the cup cradled between both hands. “I think we, or one of us, should go look for breeding stock, both for oxen and horses. We have three mares that could be bred, and a couple more cows would—”

  “Would give us more milk to dispose of. You can’t keep up with the cheese as it is.” Kaaren held Andrew on her lap.

  “Ja, that is true. We might need a larger cellar for storing ripening cheeses. But the offspring can be trained as oxen, and we can sell them. There are plenty of people heading to the western side of the territory, and they all need horses and oxen.”

  “Along with milk cows, sheep, pigs . . .” Lars added. He had his foot propped up on a stool topped with a pillow. Even with his specially designed shoe, his foot swelled, growing even more painful when he walked very much. Though he limped, he grew stronger day by day.

  “If we fenced off some of the land for pasture, you could let them graze without hobbling. You’ll need to do that for a larger herd.” Haakan rocked the chair on its back legs.

  “For the sheep too.” Thorliff looked up from the book he was reading in the lamplight.

  “Ja, although they take a lot of grazing room, more than we’d want to fence this first year.”

  Ingeborg lifted her gaze from studying the rim of the cup to Haakan’s face. Was he planning to stay, then? Had she heard right? He said ‘we.’

  “We could buy the barbed wire. We haven’t enough trees to split for rails.” Lars nodded. “I saw some pretty big pastures when I was out with the threshing machine. Everyone isn’t as lucky to have a good herder like our Thorliff.” He leaned forward and tousled the boy’s hair.

  Thorliff brushed it back off his forehead and grinned at his uncle. “Me and Baptiste.”

  “So, where would we go to find more stock?”

  “And who would go?” Kaaren looked around the circle. “Who has time?”

  All eyes looked at Ingeborg. She shook her head. “Not me. I think Lars should go.”

  “I’ll be able to work in the fields soon.”

  “You could go to work out there Monday if we had a sulky plow. I think you’re strong enough to push the foot pedals, and if not, we could arrange a pad on it or something.”

  “Buy a sulky plow now?” Ingeborg heard her voice squeak.

  “You have enough produce to make a run to the Bonanza farm. You could order the sulky plow at The Mercantile at the same time, stable the team in St. Andrew, and catch the boat for Pembina to look for more cows and mares. Didn’t you say that Roald bought the one team of oxen up there?”

  “Ja, but I don’t know where, and . . .” Ingeborg sputtered to a stop. Hadn’t this been her dream, buying more stock and raising animals to sell? Then why was she hesitating? Did she know how to tell if an animal was sound? Of course. Could she drive a hard bargain? If needed. Did she want to go? No!

  She looked up to see Hjelmer looking at her from under lowering eyebrows. “You have been very quiet,” she said. “What do you think?”

  “I think it is not a woman’s place to do this. Buying livestock is a man’s job.”

  Ingeborg was sorry she’d asked. Should they send him? She looked to Lars, who sat off to the side of Hjelmer and slightly behind. The slight shake of his head could have been a trick of the light. She watched without seeming to look at him, and he did so again.

  Haakan rubbed his fingertip around the rim of the cup.

  “Would anyone like more coffee?” Kaaren asked, getting to her feet and handing the nodding Andrew to Lars.

  “I don’t think we need to make the decision tonight, do we? Let’s think about it.”

  “And pray about it,” Kaaren added as she refilled Ingeborg’s cup.

  “Ja, that too. But even if we don’t buy more stock right now, that plow would make a big difference.”

  Hjelmer strode ahead of them on the walk back to the other soddy. The rigid set of his shoulders shouted his resentment. Haakan carried the sleeping Andrew. A sickle moon hung in the west with a star dangling below the tip. The horizon still bore the lighter blue from the long set sun, and above them, the Milky Way spread its canopy of distant pinpricks of light.

  Ingeborg drew in a deep breath and let it out on a sigh.

  “Is there something wrong?” Haakan asked in a low voice.

  “Just the not knowing exactly what to do.” Ingeborg stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I’d like to depend more on Hjelmer, but . . .” She looked ahead to where Thorliff tried to match his uncle’s long strides. Hjelmer paid the lad no attention.

  “He is self-centered.”

  “Ja, and opinionated.”

  “That too.” Haakan shifted the baby to his other arm.

  “You want I should take him?” Ingeborg slowed her steps as they neared the house. Hjelmer headed straight to the barn and his bed.

  “No, he is fine. Do you want to know what I think?”

  Ingeborg stopped by the corner of the house. “Of course.”

  “I think you should go order the sulky plow. If it were my decision, and I had the money or was willing to borrow more, I would order two. Once your own sod was broken, you could let Hjelmer go break sod for others, thus bringing in some more cash.”

  “Would anyone have money for that?”

  “Some do.”

  “Ja.” Ingeborg nodded and rubbed her chin with a callused finger. “I will think about that.”

  The next morning they hurried to finish the chores and after breakfast harnessed the team for the drive to the Baards’ house for church. Ingeborg wrapped the roasting pan that held two baked hens in a blanket to keep it warm and nestled the loaves of bread around it. A pot of beans that had been baking all night completed her contribution to the community meal. Hjelmer rode Jack so he wouldn’t have to walk home later that night after spending the afternoon with Penny.

  When Thorliff had pleaded to ride with him, Hjelmer had started to say no, but one look at Ingeborg changed his mind. Swinging the boy up behind him, the two rode off.

  “Me ride. Me ride.” Andrew sent his plea after them, but to no avail.

  “Hush now. When you get bigger you can ride.” Ingeborg sat him on her lap and got him giggling by playing the “what is this?” game. “What is this?” She poked him in the tummy. “And this?” She gently pinched his chin, then his cheek and pointed to his nose.

  “Eye, Andrew, say eye.” She touched the side of his right eye.

  “Eye.” He pointed to his nose. “Nose.” He stretched up his hand and pointed to hers. “Nose.” He turned to Haakan and reached as far as his arm would. “Nose?”

  Haakan leaned sideways until Andrew could reach.

  “Nose!” The little one shrieked and kicked his feet. His chuckle made Thorliff turn back to look to see what was happening.

  “You are one smart little boy.” Haakan grabbed a tiny foot and shook it. Andrew gurgled again.

  “Nose. Eye.”

  “He’ll probably tell everyone his new words,” Ingeborg said, a loving smile curving her lips. “I can just hear him in the middle of prayer time. Eye, nose!”

  “Eye, nose.” Andrew laughed and kicked his feet again.

  If contentment were a piece of the sunshine, Ingeborg knew how it felt. Just like now. They stopped their horses by the sod barn at the Baards’ and tied the team to the wagon wheels. Haakan removed the harnesses and hooked the bridles over the hams before pouring a measure of oats for each of the team. The
n he helped Ingeborg get out the food.

  “You watch Andrew, now,” she called to Thorliff, who made a face but did as bid. “Just until we help Agnes get things set up.”

  They were all set to begin the service when another wagon drew up.

  Ingeborg groaned. “The Strands. Here comes trouble.”

  He’s just asking for trouble. Haakan debated whether it was time for a little man-to-man talk with Hjelmer. The looks he constantly arrowed at Ingeborg were not only unnecessary but growing more unkind by the day. I wonder what his problem is? He thought some more, the jingle of the harness and clopping of trotting hooves providing the perfect counterpoint for deep thinking.

  It had been bothering him for some time.

  Ingeborg had been nothing but gracious, treating the boy with the same loving concern she treated everyone. Was the issue of her wearing britches the root of it? He could feel an inward chuckle. You had to admit the woman had spunk. He slanted a glance sideways to where she sat, properly attired since this was Sunday and they were meeting with the neighbors. She was quietly playing with Andrew, who could draw a smile from the soberest face.

  Except from Hjelmer.

  Haakan had watched the boy-man—Haakan was never sure which he was—fight against enjoying the little one. He usually left the house in the evening as soon as supper was finished. Granted he worked hard like the rest of them. One couldn’t fault him for that.

  Andrew’s chortle and Ingeborg’s chuckle drew Haakan’s attention again. He leaned over so Andrew could touch his nose. At the action and accompanying laugh, a lump big as a burl on a Minnesota pine tree clogged his throat.

  Dear Lord, was this to be his family? When had he begun to fall in love with Ingeborg? With a love that made the feelings he’d had for Mrs. Landsverk seem like a seedling next to an aged giant. He’d seen it that night at Lars’ bedside when they all prayed for God to heal the foot. He shuddered at the remembrance of Metiz so calmly removing the putrefying flesh.

  He could never remember a time when he had felt Jesus right in the room with them, but it had been unmistakable. If that didn’t turn one into a praying, believing man, no doubt nothing would.

  If you’d prayed the night of the blizzard, the frostbite might never have happened. That sly voice had been tormenting him lately. But leaving the God of his fathers on the shores of Norway had seemed a natural thing to do. After all, this was a new land with unbelievable opportunities, and he was young and strong and healthy—and dumb.

  Haakan reached over and tickled Andrew’s tummy. At the deep chortle, Haakan could feel the moisture threaten to overflow behind his eyes. Ach, how he loved these two boys. They’d reached right out with their child’s hands and snagged his heart good.

  What if Ingeborg wouldn’t accept him? What if she didn’t love him as he loved her? He thought he’d been reading the signs right, but about the time he’d get up the nerve to kiss her, she’d pull away or someone would interrupt. Would they ever have any time alone? Just the two of them?

  He never tired of watching her, the way her smile lit the room, her laugh—oh, her laugh! Would that he could keep her laughing all the while. She needed more to laugh about in her life. It had been so hard.

  Oh, Lord, help me bring joy to her heart and laughter to her lips. Let me be a father to these boys. Dear God, let her say yes. He could feel sweat trickling down his temple. What if she says no? He shook his head to clear away the abject terror at the thought of the rest of his life, spread before him like the pictures he’d seen of a desert, without Ingeborg.

  Perhaps if he presented it like a business proposal, she would accept. The thought comforted him. He clucked the horses into a faster trot. Surely God would speak to him through the reading this morning. His mor always said that when you asked God for something, you should listen real hard to His Word, because that was how He answered.

  Haakan knew, though, that wasn’t the only way God spoke.

  He heard a team coming up behind them and turned to see who it was. Lars sat on the bench seat, his ailing foot propped on the board in front of him where Kaaren had secured a quilt or some such for padding. But he was driving. The welcoming grin he tossed Haakan brightened the day even further.

  “Kaaren,” Haakan called. “How about reading the ‘this is the day’ Psalm?”

  “I planned on it,” she called back. “I think we should open with that one every Sunday.”

  Haakan could feel the question in the steady gaze Ingeborg leveled at him. Soon, probably sooner than he was ready for, he would explain all.

  Soon he would see her. Hjelmer felt like kicking the mule into a dead run. Penny would be waiting. Granted he couldn’t do more than sit by her during the service, and then she would help serve the meal. But after the cleanup, they would elude the smaller children and walk across the prairie. Last Sunday they’d sat in the loose hay at the bottom of one of the stacks so carefully built by the haying crew and talked. And talked. Never had he been able to talk to anyone like he could with Penny. She made him feel like, like—

  “Onkel Hjelmer, I’m about trotted out. Jack’s got a backbone like a pole,” Thorliff said, his voice jolting with the bounce of the mule.

  “Sorry.” Hjelmer pulled the mule back to a walk. Why had he let Thorliff ride with him, anyway? That was stupid.

  Hjelmer retreated once again to his daydream. He’d told Penny of his dream of owning his own blacksmith shop and she’d shared hers about working in a store full of general merchandise like The Mercantile she’d seen only once. He wondered sometimes how he could break land for his own farm and run a blacksmith, too. Perhaps he’d have a livery with it. That way he could have a shiny black surrey with red wheels and a team of matched bays that would never see a lick of fieldwork. He’d even braid their manes like a pair he’d seen trotting on the streets of New York. When he rented that rig out, people would come for more.

  He squeezed his knees, and Jack broke into a lope when they neared the Baard homestead. Other wagons were already there. One he didn’t recognize, and he saw a couple others coming across the prairie.

  Thorliff swung to the ground. “Mange takk.” He stopped. “Thank you for letting me ride.” All of them were trying to remember to use American words rather than Norwegian. It wasn’t easy, so sometimes their sentences were a jumble of both kinds.

  “You’re welcome.” Hjelmer didn’t look at the boy. He was too busy searching the gathering for a glimpse of Penny. He’d even thought one night when sleep wouldn’t come that maybe he should go to Grand Forks and find a poker game. That was a quick way to raise some money. Unless he had some prospects, Joseph wouldn’t look kindly on a marriage proposal for his niece.

  Ah, there she was. Their eyes met across the intervening space. Hjelmer could feel his heart leap. Yes, Penny, she was the one. He could see the blush pinking her cheeks clear from where he stood. The look she sent him as she turned to answer a question made his blood pound.

  Haakan stopped the wagon next to the young man and followed his gaze to see the silent interchange. Just as he’d thought, Hjelmer was suffering the same pangs as he. Ah, spring fancies that turn to summer love. He stopped himself. He, Haakan Bjorklund, thinking poetry? He swung down from the wagon and, after lifting Andrew down to the ground, helped Ingeborg over the wagon wheel.

  “Come help me unharness these beasts.” He clapped Hjelmer on the shoulder. “She’ll wait a few minutes more for you.”

  Hjelmer shot him a startled look.

  “Come on, son,” Haakan lowered his voice, “you think we haven’t noticed? Don’t get your back up, she’s a wonderful girl, and you are a fine strapping Norwegian man. What more could a future uncle-in-law ask?”

  “He could ask that the man have money or at least a livelihood to support his niece.”

  “Ah, that. You have a skill, several in fact.” He swung the heavy harness off Belle’s broad back. “You can go west and homestead.”

  “Ja, I’ve thought of
that.” Hjelmer leaned his hands on the wagon side. “But I would like to stay around here and open a blacksmith shop.”

  Haakan paused in tying Bob to the wagon wheel. “Would you now?” He nodded. “If you begin at a crossroads where the settlers can stop, you might have a good idea there.”

  “I thought by the schoolhouse. That is, when a schoolhouse is built.”

  “Have you mentioned this to Ingeborg?”

  Hjelmer got that squared-jawed look that told anyone watching he’d either bit a sour lemon or someone said something he didn’t like. “What would be the use?” He slapped his hands on the wagon sideboard and turned and strode off across the packed dirt toward the sod house.

  Haakan stared after him. Whatever had rubbed a hot spot under his collar? He finished giving each of the horses and Jack the mule a measure of oats, and then with hands in his pockets, he strolled across to the gathering. Greeting the others, he kept an eye on Hjelmer. While his jaw had relaxed, he still kept as far from the remainder of the family as possible, being a bit more civil to Kaaren and Lars, but not much. It looked to be about time they took a certain young man to task. Perhaps that was a job for him and Lars. Maybe they could handle it without causing either of the women any further grief or concern.

  He looked out to see another wagon nearing the farmstead and groaned when he recognized the woman sitting so upright beside the driver. The Strands. He’d heard they’d camped on another neighbor’s land, seeming to be in no hurry to travel farther west or north to where homesteads were still available.

  Another wagon, this one with a wheel that looked about to fall off, arrived from the north. Haakan glanced over to Ingeborg to see if she recognized the family. Sure as shooting, it had to be the Polinskis. While Ingeborg hadn’t told him all the story of the Winter of Death as he’d heard it called, she’d mentioned the Polinskis. Her jaw had tightened at the name.