The Reaper's Song

by Lauraine Snelling

  When she finally did sleep, nightmares raced rampant through her mind.

  Now that Anner is home, I think we should send Ephraim out to help them.”

  Hjelmer looked up from his newspaper. “Can you spare him from the store? I got too much work myself to help inside.”

  “If I have to.” Penny turned from rolling out pie crust, her evening ritual since she began offering pies for sale and serving dinners. “Might be that Bridget or Katy could come help me. Maybe even Goodie if Ellie goes out to the farm to visit Andrew.”

  “You have flour on your nose.” Hjelmer smiled at her and went back to his paper.

  Penny glanced over at her husband, the light from the kerosene lamp creating a halo around him. She dipped her finger back in the flour bin, tiptoed across the room, and with a swoop, dabbed it on his nose. “Now, Mr. Bjorklund, you have flour on your nose.”

  Hjelmer grabbed her round the waist and pulled her down onto his lap.

  “You’re going to have flour in more places than on your nose,” she warned him, trying to keep her hands free. She giggled when he rubbed his nose in her neck.

  “You smell like cinnamon.”

  “It’s my new perfume. Drives my customers crazy.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Let me up, please. I need to get those pies in the oven.”

  “You drive me crazy.” He kissed her soundly before setting her on her feet. “Look what you did to my paper.”

  “Me?” She feigned a look of astonishment.

  “Yes, you. Speaking of pies, is there any from supper?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry. Ephraim ate the last piece.”

  The thump and bump of the rolling pin sounded loud in the stillness until the paper rustled.

  “Tell me what’s going on in the world,” she said. “I never have time to read the paper.”

  “You better start. We’ll be a state before long. Right now some want one state of Dakota and others want two.”

  “Which do you want?”

  “I think two would be best. Those hotheads down in the south—I don’t want to be mixed up with them.”

  “What does the paper say about women being allowed to vote?”

  He looked at her over the top of the paper. “Nothing. Why should it?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not proper, that’s why.”

  “Says who?” Penny turned from crimping the pie crust.

  “It’s just not. That’s what you ladies got husbands for.”

  “To vote for us? What if we don’t agree with our husbands as to who is best for the office?”

  “Then you talk it over with him, and—”

  “And he’ll do what he thinks best.”

  “That’s right. God put men in charge for a very good reason.”

  “I don’t recall any place in the Bible saying women should not vote.” She let the oven door bang open, thrust the pies inside, and slammed it shut. “You men voted for Wagg and look what a thief he is.”

  Hjelmer remained silent.

  Penny slammed the dishpan on the stove and filled it with hot water from the reservoir. The water sloshing over the side danced and sizzled on the hot stove. Steam rose and Penny’s temper with it.

  “So you do not want your wife to vote. Is that it?”

  “Well, if all women were smart as you and running their own business like you do, then I guess I’d rethink my position.”

  “You think Ingeborg is too stupid to vote?”

  “I didn’t say anyone was stupid.” He folded the paper and thrust it into the rack by his chair. “It’s just that most women don’t have no interest in politics. They are more concerned about raising their children and keeping their homes and such.”

  “And that’s not important?” Her eyebrows flew upward so far they nearly disappeared into her hairline. She stared at her husband. Were all men this dense, or did she get an especially stubborn one?

  “I didn’t say that. Will you quit twisting my words?”

  Penny finished washing the baking utensils and strode to the door to toss the dishwater out on her roses. Besides not wasting water, the soap in it kept the aphids at bay. Right now she felt like dumping it on her husband instead. His silly ideas were worse than aphids any day.

  “Well, Hjelmer Bjorklund, I plan to do all I can to help women get the vote and make a few other changes in the way things are done in this world too. Or at least in this country.”

  Hjelmer groaned. “Isn’t running the best store in the Red River Valley enough?”

  It might be if I had a baby, Penny thought, but since I don’t—no, it isn’t.

  “I don’t want to stay here. I want to go home.” Manda buried her fists on her skinny hips.

  Zeb shook his head. “I can’t help that. I got work here. We all have food enough, a bed to sleep in, and people who care. What more can you ask for?”

  “My pa might be home by now.”

  Zeb just stared at the floor. What could he do? If it weren’t for the two girls, he could have gone on to Canada by now. Katy flashed like a shooting star through his mind. Bright-eyed, laughing Katy. He could hardly stand to be in the same room with her, she attracted him so. When he closed his eyes, he could hear her laugh, see her play with the twins, encourage Deborah to eat more, bring him cool water in the hot afternoon.

  But he was a hunted man. A haunted man.

  Could he make a life here? There was no sheriff in Blessing, and while soon there would be a telegraph office there, he’d not heard of his name and crime flashed along the wire. Was there safety for him and the girls here with the Bjorklunds?

  “Why don’t you want to stay here?” he asked.

  “I hate school. Thorliff and Baptiste treat me like a girl.” The final word carried all the disgust she could give it.

  He ignored the girl word and concentrated on school instead. “Why do you hate school? I thought sure you’d be happy there.”

  She studied a new button that Katy had sewn on her dress as if she’d never before seen such a precious object.

  “Manda?”

  “I . . . I cain’t read so good.”

  “Ah. So that is the problem. How much schoolin’ you had?”

  “Enough.”

  Zeb nodded. “But not enough to read well. Arithmetic?”

  She shook her head. “Pa didn’t hold much with book learning for girls. Said I was smart enough anyway.”

  “Can you write?”

  “I kin write my name. My numbers and the ABC’s.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t see. If’n I ain’t to home, someone is going to come and jump our claim. Then there won’t be no place for Pa to come home to—when he can. Nor for me’n Deborah.” She stared him in the face, willing him to understand. “My ma gived her life for that stretch of no-account land.”

  And your pa too. Zeb sighed. Lord in heaven, why me? Why did you send this my way? Didn’t I have enough troubles of my own?

  He could leave the girls, just ride off in the middle of the night.

  “You ain’t gonna leave us, are you?” She’d nearly twisted the button off.

  What? Is she a mind reader too? “No, I ain’t goin’ to leave you.”

  And to Zeb MacCallister, his word was his bond.

  “If I’m to stay here with y’all, you have to go to school and do your very best. Hear me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And right now, you can go sew that button back on. You don’t want to hurt Katy’s feelings, do you?” Back to Katy again. If only she and I could talk together. I know she’s learning English as fast as she can, but . . . Another voice, sounding much like his mother, intruded. So go help her learn the language, you dolt.

  Sunday morning getting ready for church threw the entire household into a frenzy. By the time they all loaded into the wagon, Zeb could only dream of riding north—by himself. Thank God for Bridget, who’d taken to washing and mending the meager clothes Manda and
Deborah owned, so that took away one of Manda’s excuses.

  “Don’t want to go to no church,” she muttered.

  “Too bad. We’re goin’.”

  “Won’t understand a word they say. Why can’t they all talk English?”

  “You know why. What if you moved to a strange country?” I’m not cut out to be a father. “Now, get your clothes together. Katy is helping Deborah. And wash your face.” Third time he’d said that. “What you got against soap and water anyway?”

  “You just want to go so you can sit by Katy.”

  She had him there. “Get in the wagon,” he told her as he mounted his horse.

  In spite of the looks from Katy’s mor, Zeb did manage to sit next to Katy in church. And the hymns were familiar. He sang the English words along with some of the congregation, and the others sang Norwegian. He didn’t understand the sermon, but then, it gave him free time to think about the young woman beside him. Did she have any idea he was thinking about her?

  Manda gave him an elbow in the ribs.

  He brought his gaze forward. Had he really been studying Katy’s hands? He was going to have to do something about that girl. Manda, not Katy. Did she think she was his keeper or what?

  He followed the family down the aisle and out to shake the preacher’s hand, Katy right in front of him.

  “Good to see you, Miss Bjorklund.” Reverend Solberg spoke in Norwegian, but any dolt would recognize the delight on his face and the extra time he held her hand.

  Zeb felt like pushing forward and . . .

  “Good morning,” his angel said in English. “I . . . I am pleased to see you.” Her eyes lit up at her triumph.

  Reverend Solberg laughed with her. “You are coming along just fine. We’re going to be having a class in speaking English at the school starting on Tuesday night. You are welcome to come.”

  Zeb couldn’t understand a word he said, other than Tuesday and English. Is he ever going to let go of her hand?

  He rode on home ahead of the wagonful of laughing and teasing people. The Bjorklunds made everyone feel a part of their family. Yet he didn’t dare join in. One of these days Haakan was going to ask some penetrating questions. He could see it coming, and he couldn’t give any answers. Better to be silent than tell a lie.

  That night as Ingeborg sat brushing her hair in preparation for bed, she turned to Haakan. “What do you think of Zeb?”

  “Mmm.” Haakan squinted his eyes to think better. “He seems a good young man. He knew the hymns today and knew his way around the Bible. You can tell he’s had a godly upbringing.”

  Ingeborg waited, her arm automatically continuing with the brush strokes, her waist-length golden hair pulled around over one shoulder. Finally she said. “Do I hear a ‘but’ there?”

  “I guess so. I get the feeling he’s hiding something, but then he and I haven’t had much time to really talk. I tell him what to do, and he goes and does it. Always does a fine job too, especially with horses and people. See the way he gets around Manda? Now there’s a strong-willed youngster if I ever saw one.”

  “You think they’re related?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. I just get the feeling there’s a lot of story there that we’re not hearing.” She rested the brush in her lap and turned to face him. “We could maybe help them if they’d trust us enough to tell us what’s what.”

  “Why’d you ask?”

  “Well, you know our Katy.”

  “Do I ever. Now, if I wasn’t already married to the best wife in Dakota Territory, I might . . .”

  She smacked him on the hip with her hairbrush. “Haakan Howard Bjorklund, how you talk.”

  He rolled closer and tweaked the end of the loose braid her fingers had made while they talked. “Ingeborg Bjorklund, always remember this. No matter that I look at other women sometimes. Men do that. But I will always come home with you and you only.”

  Ingeborg felt her eyes fill. “Oh, Haakan.” She leaned back against him and snuggled close when he wrapped his arm around her waist.

  It was some time later before they fell asleep, spoon fashion, with him curved around her back, keeping her safe.

  Her last thought before drifting off with a smile on her face was Perhaps a baby may come of this.

  They planned the house-raising for Metiz for midweek. Instead of asking the entire community, they just invited the Baards and all the Bjorklunds. Still, they had six grown men, Petar, who thought he was full grown, and five youths. Goodie insisted on coming with Hjelmer and Ephraim, who came in from helping at the Valders’. Penny remained to run the store.

  “I’m going to miss out,” Penny moaned as she added two pies to the wagonload of supplies. The kegs of nails and glass for the windows had come in on the train the day before.

  “You can come help with Lars and Kaaren’s house on Saturday. Everyone is going to be there. That way you can close the store.” Hjelmer checked to make sure he had all his hand tools.

  “You want I should send Manda back to help you?”

  Penny brightened. “What a wonderful idea. I like that little girl. She doesn’t take any guff from anybody.”

  “Way I hear it, calling her ‘girl’ is what gets Thorliff and Baptiste in bad with her. She’d just as soon knock ’em down as spit.”

  “Spit!”

  Hjelmer turned to her, the twinkle in his eyes making her smile. “Way Reverend Solberg told it, she won the spitting contest out behind the school by two feet or so.”

  Penny rolled her eyes. “Good for her. Teach those young pups a thing or two.”

  “Maybe you’d better set her to quilting or some such ladylike occupation.”

  “Hjelmer, get on with you. Goodie, get him out of here before I . . .”

  “Before you what?” Hjelmer gave her a swat on the behind before mounting to the wagon seat.

  Penny watched them leave until the jangling bell above the front door called her inside. She pushed aside the calico curtain that draped the door between home and store. “Why, Mrs. Magron, how are you? Seems like forever since I saw you last.”

  “This fall’s been mighty busy, what with harvest and all.” Mrs. Magron twittered just like the bird Penny so often thought her like.

  “Hope your grain was heavy as the others’. This has been a good year so far.” Penny took out a cloth and wiped the dust off the counter. “What can I find for you today?”

  Mrs. Magron looked at her list, then handed it to Penny. “Seems I keep finding more things I’m out of. Did the needles come in? I broke my last one yesterday. I just don’t think they make them as strong as they used to.”

  Penny led the way to the stack of cloth-covered bolts. By the time they’d settled on navy wool for a coat, black serge for a skirt, and various pieces for shirts, Penny had fabric draped all over everywhere.

  “Miz Bjorklund?”

  “Yes. Oh, Manda, you’re just the person I want to see.” She waved her hand at the mess they’d made. “You think you can roll these bolts of material back together and stack them over there?” She pointed to where the other bolts were stacked.

  “A’course.” Manda smiled at Mrs. Magron and went right to work.

  Some time passed before they had a lull in customers. When the bell tinkled as the last person walked out the door, Penny breathed a sigh of relief. “Manda, you are one fine answer to prayer today. If you hadn’t been putting things away, I’d have to close up to do so. You hungry?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Manda leaned on the broom she’d found to sweep out the dirt clods carried in on boots. The street hadn’t dried out all the way from the rain the day before, and Dakota soil stuck to boots like leeches on skin.

  “So how are things out at the farm?” Penny asked a bit later as they sat down at the table.

  “All right.”

  “I hear Deborah is getting stronger all the time.”

  “She is, thanks to the old Mrs. Bjorklund. She took us in with her just
like we was long-lost family. Hamre and Zeb, they sleep out to the barn for now.”

  Penny smiled to herself. Manda had said more in these few minutes than all the times she’d seen her before. She’d turned the store sign to “closed” and then together they’d put the dinner out. While she’d cooked a big roast beef, no one had gotten off the train today for dinner, so it was just the two of them.

  “Here, have some of these candied carrots.” Penny passed the bowls of food across the table. “I heard tell you licked them boys in a spitting contest.”

  “’Tweren’t hard.” Manda stared down at her plate. “Ol’ Missus Valders came by and said young ladies shouldn’t do such things.” She looked up, her eyes dark. “I ain’t no young lady, and I ain’t never gonna be one.”

  “What do you want?” The question just slipped out.

  “I want to go home.”

  “Where is home?” Penny had a feeling she was about to find out more than the others had.

  “Southwest of here. On the other side of the Missouri River. My folks got a homestead there, and . . . and . . .” Manda took a bite of meat and chewed. After swallowing, she continued. “My ma died and Pa went for supplies, but there was a big snowstorm and he never came back. I figured maybe he got lost or something. Deborah took sick and I done the best I could takin’ care of her. Then that old red cow up and drowned herself, and that’s when I run into Zeb MacCallister. He come to our soddy lookin’ for a place to get out of the storm. Pa said don’t let no strangers in, but I already met him. Zeb, I mean. So he waren’t no stranger—not really.” She cut and chewed again. “You think I done right?”

  Penny wanted to put her arms around the girl and hold her close. “Yes, I think you did the right thing. How long since your mother died?”

  “Last winter, sometime after Christmas. The baby she was borning died too. My pa, he . . . he had a hard time of it.” She glared across the table. “But he didn’t run off and leave us. I know he didn’t.”