A Season of Grace

by Lauraine Snelling

  Ivar nudged Nilda and nodded to Fritz Larsson, who had left the organ bench and taken a seat for the duration of the sermon.

  “Enough,” she hissed back, shaking her head. But she’d caught Mr. Larsson glancing at her earlier. What would happen if she smiled back?

  After church as Nilda was leaving, Mr. Benson motioned to Leif. “I heard you might be in the market for some sheep.”

  “Who, me?” He stared at him in surprise.

  “Your mor said you are taking care of the hogs, so I should talk with you.”

  Leif grinned at Signe. He nodded. “Ja, we’ve talked about buying some sheep this fall. You know of some for sale?”

  Mr. Benson nodded. “I do. I thought perhaps you might like to trade some of your young pigs for sheep.”

  Leif looked from his mor to his far. “Me? I mean, I can trade?” When they both nodded, he looked at Mr. Benson. “How many are there?”

  “Three ewes and a young ram of different bloodlines.”

  “What kind?”

  “Hampshire. You know, the ones with black faces and legs. Big. They’ve been shorn for this year, so no wool, but you will have plenty next year.”

  “And at least three lambs.” Leif turned to his far. “Do you think a pig for a sheep is a fair trade?”

  “You can ask.”

  “But what if they want more?”

  “Then it’s up to you how badly you want the sheep.” Rune laid a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Do you want to go look at them tomorrow? Or perhaps this afternoon?”

  Leif turned back to Mr. Benson. “Where do they live?”

  Mr. Benson pointed to a man and wife who were just getting into their buggy. “That’s Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. Why don’t you go talk with them?”

  Leif looked up at his far. “All right?”

  Rune nodded. “You better hurry.”

  Nilda and the family followed him over to the Wilsons’ buggy. Leif stopped beside the man who was helping his wife into the seat. “Mr. Wilson? Mr. Benson said you have some sheep for sale.”

  He turned with a smile. “We do. And who might you be?”

  “I’m Leif Carlson, and I wondered if we could trade feeder hogs for your sheep.”

  “How big are the hogs?”

  Leif glanced up at Rune. “Thirty pounds?”

  Rune nodded. “About that, give or take a bit.”

  “They’re growing fast,” Leif added, “and should be ready to butcher in late November.”

  Mr. Wilson nodded. “Never thought of that, but I think . . .” He looked at his missus. “Do you want ham this year?”

  “I do. What is a fair trade, do you think?” she asked Leif.

  Leif cleared his throat. “Uh, a pig for a sheep?” Nilda watched him; this was one nervous young man, but she was impressed he was able to have this whole conversation in English. She noticed that Rune was smiling, looking amused.

  Mr. Wilson looked rather amused too. “Four pigs. We could keep a gilt or two for breeding. I always liked having pigs around. And since we won’t have sheep grazing that pasture down to nubbins any longer, we could build a fence for pigs instead.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”

  Leif did the same, flashing his far a big grin. “Deal!”

  “How about I load the sheep in the wagon tomorrow, deliver them, and haul the hogs home?”

  “You can pick out the ones you want.”

  “Very good. See you in the morning. Looks like I might be building a fence today.” He waved as he climbed up in the buggy and backed his horse up so he could head north.

  Leif stared up at Rune. “I didn’t ask Tante Gerd if I could do this. What if she says no?”

  Rune shrugged. “Remember, she was the one who mentioned sheep. I think she’ll be very proud of you and grateful.”

  Leif told Gerd what he had done as the rest of the family climbed into the wagon.

  Nilda smiled at her older brother. “So you are raising a businessman?”

  “Ja, he is the real farmer, he and Knute. I like farming, but I’ve learned I would rather make things like skis and furniture in the shop. It’s a good thing there’s plenty of work for everyone and of all different kinds.”

  Nilda watched Gerd put her hands on Leif’s shoulders and nod. At the grin on the boy’s face, she knew Gerd had agreed with him. No wool this year, but four fleeces next year. Spinning and weaving—how Nilda enjoyed that, just like her mor, Gunlaug, did.

  In the wagon on the way home, Gerd raised her voice. “Do you think we might be able to trade more of our hogs for a bred heifer or another milk cow? Leif just gave me all kinds of ideas. One thing I know for sure, we don’t want to butcher twenty hogs this year. Sell, trade—those pigs are like money in the bank.”

  “Or on the hoof,” Bjorn added, shooting Tante Gerd a grin.

  When they arrived home, Bjorn hopped out of the wagon to help Gerd down from the seat. She moved toward the house, Nilda close behind her, dinner on their minds.

  “What in the world?” Gerd stopped in the kitchen doorway as Rufus tore past her to leap around Leif and then greet the others, yipping and nearly wagging his tail off.

  “What is it?” Rune joined her just inside the doorway.

  “The broom. Rufus chewed up the broom. And look, part of the broomstick.”

  “Guess we won’t be leaving him in the house while we’re gone.” Rune raised his voice. “Leif, you have a cleanup job here and no broom to sweep with.”

  “Bad dog,” Leif yelled at the slinking hound. “Look what you did.”

  “He’s a puppy yet, and puppies chew, just like babies do. We should have thought of that.” Gerd shook her head.

  “There’s a broom at the new house. I saw it in the stack of gifts.” Nilda tried hard not to laugh. It was amazing how much space a well-chewed broom could cover.

  “You’d think he’d have a mouth full of slivers.” Leif swept the kitchen while the women got dinner on the table, including warming the biscuits they’d baked that morning.

  “There sure wasn’t much left on that haunch of venison,” Bjorn said when he dished the last of the meat from the platter. “Anyone else want some?”

  “I’ll take another biscuit.” Knute looked in the bowl. “Er, the last biscuit.”

  “There were hardly any leftovers from last night,” Nilda said.

  Ivar leaned back in his chair. “Someday we should roast a pig for a party here. I heard down in Texas they roast whole steers over a trench of coals. They put it on a frame with a handle for turning.”

  “A whole steer? How can they do that?” Bjorn stared at Ivar. “How would it ever get done?”

  Ivar shrugged. “Don’t know. I just saw a drawing of it. The article said the meat tasted really good.”

  “Where did you see that?”

  “In a magazine on the ship when I was helping in the main salon. Texas seems like a place I would like to visit. They have ranches of thousands of acres, run thousands of head of cattle. I asked a man on the ship to read me the article. He’d been to Texas, but he thought he was going to die on the ship.”

  Nilda watched her little brother. He had a knack for finding unusual information, and he was curious about everything. She thought about Fritz, who also had that strong streak of curiosity. Ivar and Mr. Larsson would likely make good friends.

  “So, Tante Gerd, are you ready for us to move your bed and chest of drawers to your new home?” Rune stretched his arms over his head and grunted. “All that dancing last night must have been hard work.”

  “Nilda is the one who should be tired.” Ivar mimicked Rune, so the boys did too.

  “You better be nice to me. I’m the one dishing up the cake.” Nilda waved the pancake turner in the air, then pointed at the bowl of whipped cream she would be spooning over the pieces of cake.

  Rufus whined at the screen door. Leif started to get up to let him in, caught the look from his far, and settled back down.

  “You really mean it?” Gerd
passed the plate of cake to Leif to pass on around.

  “Of course,” Signe said. “Unless you would rather stay here until we are more moved in over there. Walking back and forth all the time might be hard on you.”

  “It might be good for me too. We could set up the loom immediately. I have not worked a loom since I came to America. We will need to buy supplies for it. I wonder who might have wool for spinning now.” Gerd paused. “Hmm. I wonder if the people who sold us the sheep might have a fleece or some wool left over to sell.” She looked at Rune. “Have you ever put looms or spinning wheels together?”

  “No, but I figure it can’t be too hard. They’re rather simple. Besides, both Nilda and Signe used to use them. I’m sure they can put them together.”

  “Don’t worry, Tante Gerd,” Signe said. “We’ll manage. If we had any rags, we could do a rag rug, but we use everything till it’s gone. One of the best rugs Mor ever wove was from strips of leftover men’s pants for the weft. It lasted forever. She used heavy cord for the warp.”

  Nilda looked from face to face. Family. What a wonderful thing. She missed their relatives in Norway, of course, but her family here was just as close and caring.

  “My mor used to braid rugs. I have always liked an oval or round braided rug.” Gerd wore a faraway look. “So many things we could do.” She nodded and looked at Rune. “Today would be good. The sooner we turn my room into a workroom, the better.”

  “What other furniture do you want us to bring?”

  Gerd’s stare moved from Rune to Signe. “I, ah, what would you like to bring? Perhaps the sewing machine, but it would be good here with the loom.” She nodded. “I think the sewing machine would be good here, but the trunk in the parlor could go in my room. Do you think we might use the sofa and chair? We rarely do here. We all just stay in the kitchen where it is warmer. Even the few times we’ve had company.”

  “We’re going to have lots more company at our new house.” Signe nodded emphatically. “Benches can be built faster than chairs.”

  “Or perhaps we can order a table and chairs from the Sears Roebuck catalog. After all, if people can order houses in a kit, perhaps we can order furniture too.”

  “Next time I’m in Blackduck at the lumberyard, I’ll ask about such things.” Rune pushed his chair back. “Come on, let’s get going. The next thing someone is going to suggest is moving this house closer to the other.”

  Eyes round, Nilda and Signe stared at each other and then at Rune. “You know, that might be a very good idea,” Signe said. “The cellar is the only problem.”

  “Other than moving this entire house. Why, a snap of the fingers.” He did as he said. “Come on, boys, let’s go. Give these women time to think up new schemes.”

  “As if we need permission.” Gerd’s eyebrows arched. “We can all go with you and put away those gifts waiting for you. Do you have shelves up in the cellar yet?”

  Rune shook his head. “We don’t have shelves in the bedrooms, let alone the cellar, and no cabinets in the kitchen.”

  “You can buy those from Sears Roebuck too, you know. I saw a picture once.”

  Shaking her head, Nilda set to washing the dishes at the stove. So far they didn’t have dishes over at the new house either. Or kettles. Actually, moving the old house might just be easier.

  Wait until she wrote to her mor about all this.

  Chapter

  4

  I can’t believe this,” Rune said at breakfast the next morning. “I’m getting restless to get out in the woods again.”

  “You said we would get real beds first,” Nilda said.

  “I know, and we’re working on beds today. I just thought it surprising. I know we have plenty to do around here first. With all three of us working in the shop, maybe we’ll get them all done. Knute, you and Leif work on the woodpile. We need to find another dry tree.”

  “We still have plenty to cut up in the piles of branches. The earlier piles are dry.” Knute looked up from his oatmeal. “It’s a shame Onkel Einar burned so many.”

  “He said the ashes would help build up the dirt. He was disappointed that the soil that grew those huge trees really isn’t very good for raising crops.” Gerd toasted more bread over the open fire. “We need to churn today and do the wash.”

  “You boys can take turns at the crank too.” Signe buttered the toast and passed the plate around. “We never run out of work to do, that’s for sure.”

  “You should go see how the pigs dug up their new pen,” Leif said. “In one of those books I’m reading, in other places they let pigs run wild in the woods so they don’t have to feed them all summer. Do you think there is enough for ours to eat out there? What if they run away? Or some animal gets ’em?” He looked at Rune, who shook his head. “Did you know they like acorns?”

  “I think pigs like whatever they can dig up or find in the feed trough. Did you let them out already?”

  “Nope. I figured it would be easier to catch ’em in a smaller pen. I let the sows and the boar out.”

  “We better get at it, then.” Rune pushed his chair back. “Come get me when Mr. Wilson gets here if I don’t hear the dog barking. That Rufus, even if he did chew up the broom, is already a good watchdog.”

  “Where are we going to put the new sheep?”

  “In the small corral by the barn for now. Let them settle a bit, and then you can take them out to graze. Stay with them for a while. Talk to them so they get to know your voice.”

  “The pigs know my voice. They hear me call and come running.”

  Rune smiled at his youngest son. Not even ten, and look at all he was doing. Rune’s own far would be so proud of these grandsons of his. What a shame he refused to come to America. Mor would so love to come.

  When Rune stepped off the porch, he had to stop and shade his eyes. The glare nearly blinded him. Today was looking to be one of his bad eye days. The pain didn’t let up when he rubbed them. Pulling the brim of his hat down to shade his eyes, he headed for the shop, grateful Ivar and Bjorn could do the measuring and sawing. When he squinted with his good eye, the forest of big trees beyond the barn was only a blur rising up from the land. What would he be able to do if his sight went entirely?

  “We’ll cut all the frame boards first, then drill the holes, making them all the same size. We need four beds minimum; Knute and Leif can share. How many boards, Bjorn?”

  “Sixteen,” Bjorn replied immediately. “And the end pieces are five inches shorter than the sides, with four holes drilled per side and three on the ends. It seems to me that if we drilled more holes and put the rope closer together, it would make a better base for the mattresses or pallets.”

  “Good reasoning, but I can tell you that the way we have it is comfortable, especially compared with a pallet on the floor. We won’t have enough rope for the beds if we drill more holes.”

  “One of these years, I hope we will need to make a bed for Mor too,” Ivar said. He slid the first board onto the sawhorses, followed by another. Bjorn was doing the same thing on the other pair of sawhorses.

  Rune watched as the two young men measured, marked both sides with the end of a nail, and then used a schoolhouse ruler to draw the line to make sure the pieces were all accurate. From the beginning, Rune demanded accuracy rather than speed, reminding them that they were building furniture rather than fences—not that he didn’t require perfection on fence boards too.

  They had the boards all cut and were drilling holes when Rune heard Rufus barking. The jingle of a harness further announced the arrival of a wagon.

  “Come on,” Rune said, “let’s go see our new sheep.”

  Leif was already up on the wagon seat, showing Mr. Wilson where to go. He stopped the team right by the corral gate and greeted the others.

  “Fine morning we have. Your boy is mighty excited about his big trade.” Mr. Wilson stepped to the ground and shook Rune’s hand. “You ever raised sheep before, son?”

  “We had sheep in Norway
.” Leif studied his four sheep, which huddled as far from him as they could in the wagon box.

  “So you know how to hang on to them?” Mr. Wilson asked.

  “Ja, neck and rump. How long ago did you shear them?”

  “A little over a month. You’ll need to keep the ram separate until you breed them. We liked lambing in early spring, so they need to be bred around the first week of November. Do you have a place to winter them?”

  “Ja, we plan to add on to the lean-to off the barn and build another corral. We’ll keep our four sows over there and the boar too.”

  “It looks to me like you’re going to need more animal housing by winter.” Mr. Wilson let the rear gate down slowly. “Now move in easy, son, and keep talking to them. I’ll bring out the first.” He motioned for Rune to guard the exit and walked slowly up the ramp, pausing to talk to the skittish critters before moving in. He grabbed one by the neck and rump and guided it down the ramp, and Leif copied him perfectly. “I got the bell sheep, she leads the flock. You did well, even when he tried to leap away from you. One thing with sheep—moving slow and easy keeps ’em calm. Once they get frightened, it takes time to calm them down again.” As he spoke he snagged the next ewe and held steady until Leif had the last. With all four sheep in the corral, already crowding at the far side, Mr. Wilson nodded again. “Just remember that sheep can actually die from fright. It seems strange, but I seen it happen once when a coyote got in the flock. He killed one, but the other that died had not a mark on him. I see you got a young dog—be real careful with him and these here critters.”

  “I will. Far said to keep ’em in the corral and spend time with them.” Leif hung on the corral bars, nodding. “We really have sheep. Mor is—oh, Tante Gerd wondered if you have any wool or a fleece you might sell us?”

  “I’ll ask the missus and bring it to church on Sunday. Now, let’s move on to the hogs.”

  “It’s not going to be as easy,” Rune said. “If you could back up to the gate there.” He pointed to the pigpen.