Blossoms on the Roof

by Rebecca Martin

  Polly was puzzled. “But these are all our seeds.”

  “I know what’s missing,” Ben said, laughing. “You mean the potatoes, Father. We don’t need seeds for them.”

  Polly laughed too. “All we need are the potatoes from the root cellar.” Last week the whole family had helped to dig a cave where the potatoes would stay cool.

  “First, we must cut the potatoes into little pieces,” Mother reminded her.

  Father said, “I’ll see how much you have planted by the time I come in for lunch.” Then he went out to plow. He was always plowing these days—except when the horses needed a rest, of course.

  Yesterday he had plowed and harrowed a patch for their garden. Carefully Polly placed the seeds in a basket and carried them to the plot. The black soil was full of matted grass roots. Polly tried digging a trench for planting. After a while she said, “I can’t make a row, Mother. Why didn’t Father plow deeper so the grass gets covered up better?”

  “Think of the horses, Polly,” Mother explained. “Plowing this tall prairie grass is hard work for them. The deeper Father plows, the harder it is for the horses.”

  Ben told Polly, “He isn’t plowing very deep in the fields either. That’s why we’ll plant mostly flax this year. Flax will grow where wheat would not.”

  “Oh,” said Polly. Once again she hacked at the soil with her hoe.

  Mother said, “Let me try. You can do the planting. Drop the peas about two inches apart.”

  Mother managed to hoe some shallow trenches for the peas and beans and other vegetables. Ben took a turn with the hoe too.

  When all the little seeds were planted, Ben dropped the hoe and flung himself down on the grass. “Planting potatoes will be even harder. Potatoes need a deeper trench.”

  “We will take a rest now and get lunch,” Mother decided. “In the afternoon we’ll plant potatoes.”

  When Father came in for lunch, he said, “The horses are tired. I’ll let them rest for a few hours. Maybe I can help with the garden if you aren’t done yet.”

  “We still have all the potatoes to plant,” Ben said, sounding discouraged. “It’s hard with all those grass roots.”

  “Then I will do it,” said Father. “We’ll try using the shovel and just making a hole for each potato.”

  Planting went faster when Father helped. Polly and Ben walked behind him, dropping the little pieces of potato into the holes he dug. Then they scraped soil into the holes.

  When they were finished, Father looked at the sun. It was sinking low in the western sky. “I’ll plow for a few hours yet.”

  Ben went to hitch up the horses, and Polly followed along to watch. How tired Jasper and Rob looked! Their heads drooped. Their tails drooped. And they were thin. Polly could see their ribs through their dapple-gray coats.

  But Jasper and Rob were still willing. When Father said giddyap, they pulled the plow forward. Plod, plod, plod went their feet, and a thin strip of prairie soil curled away from the plow share.

  Ben frowned as he watched the horses plodding down the field. “I hope they don’t wear out.”

  “At least it’ll be Sunday again soon,” Polly replied. “The horses can rest all day on Sunday.”

  “So you think you can walk four miles to Samuel Miller’s?” Ben asked.

  “Of course! We’d hate to make the horses work on Sundays too, especially after they’ve worked all week.”

  Just then Polly and Ben heard a shout from Father. Sizing up the situation, Polly gasped and said, “One horse fell down!”

  Ben sprinted across the furrows. When Polly reached the team, both Father and Ben knelt beside poor Jasper, who lay in a limp heap on the grass. Rob had to struggle to stay on his feet since he was harnessed to Jasper.

  “Come on, Jasper,” Father coaxed. “Get up. I know you must feel worn-out, but you can’t stay here.”

  Jasper lifted his head and then let it flop down again. After a while Father said, “I guess this team is not meant for so much plowing. Maybe we’ll have to sell Jasper and Rob and buy a team of oxen instead.”

  Ben’s face turned pale, and Polly wailed, “Oh, no.”

  Father tried again. “Come on, Jasper. Get up!”

  Suddenly they heard a voice saying, “I see you’re having a bit of trouble.” It came from Bill McLellan, who was running across the field toward them.

  Bill and Father grasped Jasper’s harness and tried to help him to his feet, but Jasper just lay there with a glazed look in his eyes.

  Father told Bill, “We may have to sell the team and buy a yoke of oxen.”

  Bill looked at Ben, then at Polly, and then at Father. “You’d be sorry to lose this team, wouldn’t you?”

  All three of them nodded.

  Bill exclaimed, “Well, you certainly can’t sell a team if one of the horses is down.” Once more they coaxed and pulled. At last Jasper struggled to his feet.

  “Listen,” said Bill, stroking the trembling horse. “I own a yoke of oxen that’s not being used much because I hadn’t planned on plowing this spring. I did lots last year. If you’re willing to loan me these horses, I’d lend you my oxen.”

  A smile lit Father’s face. “Just what we need for now! Later we’d be glad to have the horses back.”

  “So, shall we lead the horses to my place now?” Bill suggested. “Here’s another good thing. I have some oats from last year’s crop. Your team needs a good feed of oats. Oxen are different. They can go for a long time on a diet of prairie hay.”

  “All right, Jasper and Rob,” said Father. “Here we go to the McLellans. It’s not much farther than home would be.”

  Polly felt a little bit sad as she followed the dapple-gray team to the neighbors. At least they were not going far—and they were not being sold.

  One of Bill’s oxen was red and white, and the other was black and white. “The red one is Roland, and the black one is Trim,” Bill told them. “They’re both quite good-natured—for oxen, that is.”

  Father said thank you and drove homeward with the oxen yoked together by their wooden yoke.

  “I wonder why Bill said that,” said Ben. “I wonder why he said they’re quite good-natured—for oxen, that is.”

  “We’ll probably find out,” replied Father with a wry smile.

  12

  Firewood and Indians

  Ben shaded his eyes against the early-morning sun. From his perch beside Father on the wagon, he spied a flash of silver beyond the waving prairie grass. “What’s that, Father? It must be a lake.”

  “Yes, Ben, I think that’s Island Lake. Looks like a good spot to go fishing.”

  Ben almost jumped from the seat. “Can we stop now and catch some fish? Mother would be glad for fish.”

  Father shook his head. “We’ll have to come some other time. We must get to the forest as fast as we can if we want to be home before tomorrow night.”

  Ben settled down again, but he kept his eyes on the gleaming lake as long as he could. Dreamily he thought how it would be if he and Father and Flip—maybe even Polly—could go fishing someday.

  “Whoa!” said Father suddenly. “Do you need a ride?”

  At first Ben couldn’t figure out to whom Father was speaking. Then he saw a stranger on the other side of the wagon. The man wore a slouchy felt hat pulled far down over his eyes. His beard was a dirty yellow color. His coat and trousers were old and worn.

  In answer to Father’s question, the man said, “Yes, if you’re heading for the forest.” Without another word, he clambered over the side of the wagon and sat down beside Father.

  “Will you be cutting firewood too?” Father asked politely as Jasper and Rob—which Father had borrowed back from Bill just for this trip—started off again.

  “I might,” the man said shortly.

  “By the way, I’m Jacob Yoder. Who might you be?”

  “Jess Holmes. I’m homesteading west of here.” He waved a hand in that direction.

  They drove along in silence
for a while. The only sounds that broke the stillness were the dull thud of the horses’ hooves and the swishing of the wheels in the grass.

  “See that mound over there?” Jess said, pointing. “That’s an Indian hut.”

  Ben stared hard. He was just about to ask where when he spied a brown, grassy mound on the left side of the track. A thin plume of smoke spiraled from its peak.

  Ben’s heart beat fast as he wondered, Is an Indian warrior going to come out of that wigwam—a warrior with paint on his face and a bright feather headdress? Will the warrior shoot arrows at us with his bow?

  Father said calmly, “I understand the Indians in this area are friendly.”

  “Right now they are,” said Jess, “but it wasn’t always so. My parents pioneered in the Dakota Territory back in the 1860s. Those were wild days! Ever hear of the Minnesota massacre?”

  “Ah, no.” Father glanced uncomfortably toward Ben.

  Ben thought he knew what Father was thinking. Father probably wished Jess wouldn’t tell wild Indian stories when he was able to listen, but there was no stopping Jess, and Ben was all ears as the man continued.

  “The Sioux Indians went on a rampage in Minnesota and killed many white settlers. Then the Indians fled to the Dakota Territory, and the army went after them. When I was a boy, I watched some battles between Indians and soldiers practically on our doorstep.”

  “That was quite a while ago,” Father said mildly.

  “Oh, but there was a battle only four years ago—in 1890,” Jess persisted. “It was supposed to be the last battle, but you never know. Some of those Sioux braves escaped to Canada. If they should ever take it into their heads to come back and incite the local Indians to an uprising…”

  Ben shivered. By this time even he was wishing Jess Holmes would stop talking about angry Indians.

  Jasper and Rob plodded along slowly as the trail wound upward. Trees grew thick and tall on either side. Father stopped the horses and tied them to a stout tree. Pointing to a huge fallen tree, he said, “Once we’ve cut that up, we’ll have a load.”

  Ben wondered if Jess would help them cut up the tree, but he merely said, “Thanks for the ride,” and hurried up the trail. Ben and Father set to work with an axe and saw.

  By noon Ben was so hungry that he felt he could eat the whole basket of lunch Mother had sent along, yet he knew it must also last for supper and breakfast and maybe even for tomorrow’s noon meal.

  All afternoon they toiled. With Father at one end of the crosscut saw and Ben at the other, they pulled it back and forth. Ben was sure he had never worked so hard in his life.

  At last darkness fell. Father built a fire and warmed some soup. Ben huddled close to Father and stared at the flames. His eyelids drooped lower and lower.

  Father chuckled. “I think we should get our bedrolls.”

  Ben helped spread the blanket and then lay down. It didn’t matter that the ground was hard. It didn’t matter that he had heard wild Indian stories that day. Ben slept like a log!

  The next thing Ben knew, morning had come, and Father was poking the fire to life. For breakfast they fried the eggs that Mother had carefully wrapped in grass to keep them from breaking.

  “Ready to work the saw again?” Father asked as Ben chewed down his last bite of bread.

  “Yes,” Ben answered manfully though his shoulders and arms felt sore.

  After an hour they were ready to load the wagon and start for home. Jasper and Rob trotted eagerly downhill. They had not liked being tied up in the forest. They wanted to get home as fast as possible.

  “Ben,” said Father, several hours later and as they neared home, “let’s not tell Polly those stories that Jess Holmes told.”

  Ben looked up at Father and nodded.

  13

  Picnic with the Oxen

  Water!” yelled Ben so loudly that Polly and Mother could hear him from inside the house.

  Polly was helping Mother get dinner when she heard Ben’s shout and ran outside shrieking, “Is it coming? Did you find water?”

  There was Ben, all covered with dirt and climbing out of the new well. For days the Yoder family had been digging their well. Ben had done most of it because Father had to keep plowing. Mother and Polly often helped Ben by cranking the pails of earth out of the well as fast as he filled them.

  Beneath the mud on Ben’s face was a big smile. “Yes, there’s water down there. Lots of it! I had to hurry to get out of the way.”

  Polly leaned over to stare into the well. The noonday sun shone right down into it. And yes, there was the glint of water!

  “It’s a good thing we have a well now,” Mother said happily. “The creek has been getting very low with all this dry weather.”

  Jakie came running to see what all the fuss was about. Just in time Mother grabbed his trousers. “Careful! Don’t fall in.”

  Ben cleaned out the bucket they had been using to remove the dirt and then let the bucket down again. This time when it came up, it was full of fresh cold water.

  “The water’s muddy. We can’t drink that,” Polly complained.

  “In a little while the water will be clear,” Mother assured her. “Now I better hurry in to check those potatoes on the stove.”

  Polly followed her indoors. She set the table, sliced the bread, and then ran out again to check the sun. It was straight overhead. That meant it was time for Father to come in for the noon meal.

  “Why doesn’t Father come in?” Polly asked.

  Mother kept on stirring the soup. “Maybe he forgot to check the sun. Surely he’ll be in soon.”

  Polly stared across the furrows. Father was way out there with the oxen. They were so slow! It would take them a while to reach the house.

  Then Polly heard something. “Mother, I can hear Father shouting!”

  Mother dropped her spoon and came to the door. For a moment she listened. A smile slowly spread across her face. “He’s shouting at the oxen. I think they don’t want to move.”

  “Oh, are they being stubborn?”

  Mother smiled again. “I think so. I know what we will do. Father can’t leave the oxen alone out there. That means he can’t come in for dinner. So we will take our dinner out to him and have a picnic!”

  Polly laughed and went to find Jakie and Ben. Soon they were all on their way across the furrows, each one carrying some food. Even Lisbet clutched a slice of bread in her little hand.

  The children thought a picnic was a great idea!

  When he saw the family coming, Father mopped his forehead with his big, blue hankie and started to chuckle. “So you are bringing me my dinner out here because Roland and Trim won’t move.”

  Mother smoothed out a square in the grass. While she and Polly laid out the food, Father said, “I will get some slough grass for the oxen to eat. Maybe after they have had dinner, they will stop being so stubborn.”

  Polly knew what slough grass was. A slough was a low, marshy spot, and the grass that grew there was especially tender.

  Once the oxen were munching away, the Yoder family sat down in the grass and asked a blessing on their food. It was May, and the wind blew warm and fragrant across the prairies.

  Then Ben remembered the exciting news. “Father, we have a well! I struck water this morning.”

  “Ah, that’s good,” Father said gratefully. “It reminds me of that story in the Bible where Jesus met a woman at a well.”

  Polly begged, “Tell us the story please.”

  Father told how Jesus sat down near a well one day. He was tired and thirsty, and His disciples went to town to buy food. When a Samaritan woman came along, Jesus asked her to draw water from the well for Him.

  “How surprised the woman was! You see Jesus was a Jew, and the Jews had very little to do with the Samaritans. In fact, they even looked down on them. To think that a Jewish man would ask a Samaritan woman to draw water for him was almost unthinkable!

  “Then Jesus told her something wonderful and mysterious.
” Father went on to say, “Jesus offered to give the woman the living water of everlasting life!

  “So now,” Father concluded, “when we drink water from our well, we can sometimes remember the blessing of everlasting life that Jesus promised.”

  The meal was over, and the oxen must have felt much better because all it took was one word from Father, and they were off!

  14

  Firebreak

  The warm wind kept blowing, and Father kept on plowing and harrowing. Finally near the end of May, Father said, “It is time to plant the flax.”

  Ben jumped up happily. “If you’ve finished plowing, does that mean we can have Jasper and Rob back?”

  Father shook his head. “Sorry, not yet. As soon as the seed is in the ground, I will go on plowing. We want to get even more land ready for next year, you know.”

  “Oh. So it’ll be a while before we have time to go fishing.” The disappointment showed in Ben’s voice.

  “Once the planting is done, we will make time,” Father answered cheerfully. “Now, in which packing box will I find our seeds? Do you know, Polly?”

  Polly pointed to a box. “We brought the flax seeds in the same box as the garden seeds.”

  Father opened the seed bag. He lifted a handful of shiny brown seeds and let them drop down through his fingers.

  “What are we going to do with so many acres of flax?” Ben asked.

  Father replied, “We will sell the seeds. And we might use some of the stalks to weave linen and make new clothes.”

  “Polly and I both need a new dress,” said Mother. “Father and Ben need new shirts. We brought spun wool from the sheep we had in Indiana so we could make some linsey-woolsey fabric.”

  “So that’s what linsey-woolsey means,” Polly said, chuckling. “Cloth that’s made partly from sheep and partly from flax.”

  Polly walked out to the field with Father, who had the flax seeds in a bag at his side. When he was ready to sow the seeds, he took a handful, swung his arm, and let the seeds fly out in a rainbow shape. Over and over he did this while walking across the black, crumbly soil.