The owl hooted again.
“Sounds like it’s coming from the barn. Have you looked in the haymow to see if one is nesting up in the rafters?” Rune asked.
“No, but Onkel said that bats roost up there. They come out about now too. I want to go watch them. How come people are afraid of bats?”
“That’s a good question. I’ve heard all kinds of stories, but they eat mosquitos, so I am all in favor of having bats roost nearby.”
Onkel Einar was sitting at the table, the kerosene lamp set so he could read the newspaper he had spread before him. “Did you get the snares set?”
“We did, and Knute will take care of them.” Rune looked around the room. “Where is Bjorn?”
“Bed already. Signe said she needs more firewood split for the morning.” Einar closed his paper and pushed back from the table. “Let’s get that tree up on the sawhorses so the boys can cut it tomorrow. I got two of the axes sharpened. Seems like Bjorn could learn to do that.”
“He learns fast. I’ll teach him tomorrow.” Rune followed Einar out the door, Knute right behind him. Good thing dusk lasted a long time here. By the time they hefted the dried tree trunk up on wooden sawhorses, they were both sweating again.
“Bjorn should have been out here. He sick or something?”
“No, just not used to such heavy labor. He’ll toughen up.” Like we all will. It was all Rune could do to keep from staggering.
Back in the kitchen, Signe held up the coffeepot. Rune shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m going to bed.” He paused to sniff the air. “Something sure smells good.”
“The sourdough is working. That’s yeast you smell.”
“Sourdough pancakes for breakfast?”
“Nei, it won’t be ready yet.” She turned to Knute, who had just come through the back door. “Where were you?”
“Down at the barn. One of the kittens will come to me now. Well, sort of. I thought maybe you would like him for the house, to get rid of the mice.”
Einar turned from the doorway to the bedroom. “No cats in the house.”
“Do you have mousetraps?” Signe asked.
“No, don’t think so. Gerd killed ’em with a broom.”
“Well, they have about taken over the kitchen and the pantry. And there are rat droppings in the cellar.” She stared at him.
“Put mousetraps on the list for town. No cat in here.”
Rune watched his wife. He knew how much she hated mice—and now rats? That was beyond description. He wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find that kitten here at the house soon in spite of Einar.
Once in bed, their pallet on the floor in the parlor, he tried to get comfortable, but tired as he was, his shoulders burned like fire. When Signe slipped in beside him, he flopped on his back. “Did you bring any of that liniment with us?”
“Nei, nor the featherbed. How I wish we had brought that. I assumed there would be beds for us at least.”
“I’ll make us a rope bed as soon as I can find the time. Need to tell Einar that we need some lumber and rope.” He patted her swelling middle. “How are you and the little one doing? Knute said Tante screams at you all the time.”
“Tomorrow I am going to rip that room apart and wash the bedding. No telling when that happened last. She screamed when I opened the windows to let the stink out, accused me of trying to kill her.”
“Uff da. Wonder why she is so unhappy.”
“Doesn’t like being sick, I imagine. I sure wouldn’t.”
Rune was glad he wasn’t working in the house. Einar expected a lot from his untrained workers, but at least he didn’t yell.
In the morning when Signe got up to start breakfast, Rune nudged Bjorn, and the two of them went out to the woodpile and started splitting wood. Knute and Leif headed for the barn and their morning chores.
“You ever sharpen axes on the grinding wheel at home?” Rune asked his son.
Bjorn grimaced. “Once, but Farfar took over. He said I was doing it wrong.”
“But he didn’t teach you to do it right?”
“Nei. He didn’t have a lot of patience. I did all right with a file.”
“The grinder is faster, you get a better edge. Let’s go give you a lesson on axe sharpening.”
Down at the barn, they could hear Knute talking to the cow as he milked her. Leif had opened the hen door and was scattering oats for the chickens. The rooster flew up on the roof and crowed to wake any late sleepers.
The grinder was under the machine shed roof, a big gray wheel of stone on a heavy wood frame. A foot pedal made it turn.
“You want to make sure there is nothing to catch fire from the sparks when you are pumping the grinding wheel.” Rune sat on the seat, put his feet on the pedals, and started pumping. “You want to keep a steady pace. It’ll slow down when you put the axe head to it.” He picked up one of the axes and held the cutting edge to the grinder. “About this angle. Then hold it on the spinning wheel.” When he touched the metal to the stone, the shriek could be heard clear to the house. Or the next farm. Sparks flew in all directions. “You slowly move the head from side to side, then turn it and do the same on the other side.” He lifted the axe and studied the shiny edge, running his thumb over it. “Feels about right.” He handed the axe to his son. “We could put a finer edge on it with a file, but this will be good.” He stood. “Now you try.”
Bjorn sat down and copied all his far had done. He held the axe to the stone, and it bounced back at him.
“You have to hold it square. Bouncing like that can cause a nick and an accidental cut.”
“Sorry.” Bjorn sucked in a breath and started again.
“Steady, good, good. Keep it going at the same speed. Good.”
Leif came running up to the shed. “Far, Mor rang for breakfast. I’m getting the cream.” He charged off again.
Bjorn checked the edge with his thumb, then compared it to the first axe. “Needs a bit more.”
“Go ahead. We’ll have two done before breakfast this way.”
Bjorn finished the edge to his far’s satisfaction, and the two of them headed back to the house.
“Up to you, son, to keep the axes sharpened. Either when we get back in the evening or in the morning. Keep in mind we need to keep that woodbox full.”
“It’d help if we could get a bit ahead.”
Rune smiled. What a fine son! “We will over the next few days. Keeping that boiler bubbling today is going to need a lot of wood. Both boys are helping with the wash. Oh, and if you make snide remarks about women’s work to your brothers again, they’ll come out to the woods with me and you’ll be helping here. Understand?”
Bjorn nodded and motioned for his far to go into the house before him.
“Wash.” Signe pointed to the sink and carried a stack of pancakes to the table. Einar loaded his plate as if he hadn’t eaten for a week. She set a platter of fried eggs in front of him, and he slid three onto his plate.
Rune glanced at his wife, who was shaking her head. By the time the pancakes made it around the table, Leif only got one, and the eggs were gone.
“I’ll make more,” Signe said softly as she picked up the plates to refill.
Setting another stack on the table a few minutes later, she said, “I only have cold beans and whatever is left of the pancakes to send along for your dinner.”
“That will be good.” Einar motioned around the table. “I never took meals with me before. Count yourself lucky.”
“Hard to work on an empty belly,” Rune commented. “And logging is hard work. I had no idea.”
“What did you do in Norway?”
“Worked on a dairy mostly. Anything I could find. Jobs are scarce there.”
Einar pushed back his chair. “You ready?”
Rune glanced at Bjorn, who was shoveling the last of his breakfast in his mouth. “I guess we are.”
“How many axes to grind yet?”
“Two.”
“I’ll go do that, you
two split wood.” Einar turned to Signe. “Dinner be ready in about fifteen minutes?”
“Ja, it will be. Knute, you fill the water jug for them.”
“But I’m not done eating,” the ten-year-old protested.
“Do this first,” Signe replied.
Rune ruffled Knute’s hair as he went by and winked at him. When Onkel said it was time to go, it was time to go. At least they’d gotten two axes sharpened beforehand.
When Onkel drove the team and wagon up to the house to load, they knew it was time to leave. Rune tossed the last sticks of kindling onto the pile and slammed the axe into the chopping block. Signe met him at the door with a covered basket and the water jug.
“Sure wouldn’t mind another cup of coffee,” he said as he took them from her.
“You be careful out there.”
“We will. Takk.” Rune rotated his shoulders as he sat on the wagon seat. How he was going to swing an axe all day was beyond him. Einar managed to keep a steady pace, but his body was used to wielding an axe.
“Shoulders hurt?” Einar asked.
“Ja.” Hurt was far too small a word for the burning across his shoulders and down his back.
“Take it easier today. Be extra careful. Accidents happen when you’re too tired.”
Rune hoped he kept the surprise off his face. “Takk. Splitting wood at home wasn’t much preparation for work like this.”
“True. We’re ready to fell those next two trees. Limbing is easier than felling.” He raised his voice. “Bjorn, you all right?”
“Ja,” Bjorn answered from the tailgate of the wagon.
Einar turned back to Rune. “Your Signe, she scared of mice?”
“Nei. Outside is fine, but she can’t abide mice in the house.”
Einar shrugged, his eyebrows drawing together. He muttered something that sounded like silly women.
“She hates them with a passion because they leave dirt,” Rune explained. “Doesn’t like dirt in her house, of any kind. A house needs to be clean.”
“She has her work cut out for her here. Gerd used to keep a clean house, but one day I came back and found her on the floor. Thought for sure she was dead. Doctor said it’s her heart. She hates being laid up.”
That answered Knute’s question. But still, screaming at Signe wasn’t necessary. No one could get more done in a day than Signe. And the boys were good workers too, all three of them.
Rune took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then cleaned the lenses with his shirttail. Some days his eyes were worse than others.
Einar waved a hand. “Hey, Bjorn, see that buck off to the left? What kind of shot are you?”
“He’s a fair shot, Knute not as good.” Rune stared toward the edge of the woods, but he couldn’t see a deer.
“Plenty of meat around here for someone who likes to hunt.”
“Is that venison we’ve been eating?”
“Ja. Also got a smoked hindquarter of a hog hanging in the cellar. Last of the pork. Need to stretch the meat out. Glad to hear you set some snares. Rabbit’ll fill in just fine, but that buck would take us right through the summer. That and the chickens. Signe know about raising chicks?”
“Oh, ja. We had chickens in Norway.”
Einar halted the team in the shade and stepped down from the wagon. “You ever dragged a tree with a team?”
“Ja, up in the mountains.”
“While Bjorn finishes limbing that last tree, we’ll drag the other two over to the pile to be shipped. Shame we don’t live on a river. We could just stack ’em on the bank to wait for spring, then float ’em down to the mill. Don’t cost nothing like the shipping does. For now, that will have to do.” He pointed to the logs laid out side by side. “Bjorn, unhitch the team and bring ’em over to that near tree.” He reached in the wagon bed and hauled out the chains. “You get the rest.”
Rune dragged the other chain out of the wagon and followed Einar to the two downed and stripped trees. How were they going to get the chains wrapped around that giant log?
Einar knelt down beside the log about four feet from the end and studied the ground. “Get that adze. We’ll dig it out here.”
Rune headed for the wagon again. At least he was walking, not swinging an axe. Between the two of them, they got a trench dug out for the chain, and after feeding it through the shallow ditch, looped the chain around the log a couple of times and anchored the hook over the chain.
Einar beckoned to Bjorn. “Back the team in here.”
Bjorn leaned over and picked up the doubletree, the lines in his other hand. Rune watched him struggle, then went to his aid, lifting the doubletree. Bjorn grinned his thanks and backed the team close enough to hitch the chain to the doubletree.
Einar nodded his approval. “We’ll take it from here.” He inspected the hookup, nodded again, and picked up the lines.
“These two can move that log?” Rune asked.
“You watch. Hep, Nellie, Flossy. Let’s go.” He slapped the lines. Both horses leaned into their collars, their necks arched, dug in their hooves, and slowly, inch by inch, the log began to move. Once it was moving, they dragged it over to lie parallel with the others. Einar backed them a couple of steps to take the tension off the chain, then tied up the lines. He patted both horses, who stood in place, blowing hard, sweat darkening their shoulders and flanks.
“Get them unhitched and take them back to the wagon, Bjorn, then take them to the creek for a drink when they cool down.”
“That creek cuts through your land?” Rune asked.
“Ja. Wanted to build the house nearer the creek, but once we had the well drilled, decided where it is now is really the best place. Nearer the road is good, especially in the winter. Besides, those acres were cleared when we bought this.”
Rune unhooked the chain from the log and led the team over to the wagon in the shade. “You two sure are a lot more powerful than you look. Someday perhaps I’ll have a team like you.”
Bjorn’s eyes were still round. “They moved that log, all one hundred or more feet of it.” He shook his head and returned to severing branches from the tree they had felled the day before with his axe.
“Use the saw on those nearer the bottom. It’ll go faster.”
“Einar’s notching that next one.”
“You watch, he’ll put that tree down right where he wants. It’s all in the notching, unless there’s a heavy wind that throws it off.”
Bjorn returned to the wagon bed for the bow saw and started on the lower limbs of the tree.
Rune watched his son. He knew Bjorn must be as sore as himself, but today he swung the axe with more precision and fewer pauses. Knute could probably help out here too, but right now Signe needed him a lot more. Rune lifted the seven-foot saw from the back of the wagon and hauled it over to where Einar was leaning on his axe handle, looking up the tree trunk.
“Almost seems sinful to bring such majesty down, don’t it?”
Rune stared at him in surprise. So the trees weren’t just a means to an end for him.
“You know how to tell the age of these giants?” When Rune shook his head, the older man continued. “See that stump? You count the rings. Bigger space between rings means plenty of water and growing weather. You bring your boys out here and let them see that. You can get enough lumber from these to build a house. Whole country is in a building frenzy. Once these here trees are gone, they’ll go searching for another area to strip.”
“How’d you get the stumps out?”
“Dynamite the biggest, Flossy and Nellie pulled out most of the rest. We need to be digging them out too.” He lifted off his felt hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. “Let’s get this one down, and we can have dinner.”
Pulling that saw back was right up there with swinging the axe, though it used a few different muscles. Rune recognized where each of his back and torso muscles lay. But they limbered up after a few minutes and let him do the job. Had he known what the work would
be like, perhaps he’d not have been quite so enthusiastic about coming.
“Get over by the wagon, boy!” Einar hollered. They made three more passes with the saw and stepped back.
The tree shuddered, picking up speed as it tipped and came crashing down, broken branches big enough to kill a man flying in all directions. The ground shook when it hit. Then silence, as if honoring a fallen hero, the whole world holding its breath. One of the horses snorted. A bird chirped and sang a farewell.
Einar bobbed his head. “Let’s go eat.”
Rune realized he’d taken his hat off as if he were in church. He settled it back on his head.
Chapter
8
The first load of sheets had boiled long enough.
“You fill the rinse tub with cold water.” Signe motioned to Knute. “And Leif, you churn the butter; I filled the churn already. You can do it out on the back porch if you like.” As both boys started on their tasks, she stirred the boiling sheets one more time with the sturdy stick, well bleached by years of soap and boiling water. “You can take turns turning the crank on the washing machine.”
“Signe!” Tante screeched from her bed.
Signe caught the look that passed between her sons. The screeching seemed to bother them more than her. “Coming.”
Tante Gerd lay wheezing in her bed. “Pot.” She pointed toward the floor. “Under the bed.”
“Ja, I know.” Signe knelt and pulled it out, then set the stool, which was more like a bench, over it. She’d already dumped and scrubbed the pot this morning so it wasn’t smelly—the only thing in the room that wasn’t. She pulled back the covers and helped Gerd sit up. Perhaps this evening she could give Gerd a bath. So many things demanding to be done immediately. “On three. One, two, three.” She lifted, and Gerd used what meager strength she had in her legs to stand. “Wait, don’t try to move too fast. Are you dizzy?”
“Some, but I have to go.”
They got her situated, and Signe sucked in a deep breath. For someone who ate so little, the older woman weighed enough that lifting her took all of Signe’s strength. She glanced at the chair in the corner. “If I bring that over here, will you sit in it to eat?”
The Promise of Dawn Page 7