Mrs. Benson was laughing heartily. “Oh, I love it! Quicklime! Yes, I have that.”
“Quicklime,” Signe repeated. “Takk.” She handed Mrs. Benson the list. “Onkel wondered if you have oats.”
“We do. How much do you want?”
He’d not told her how much to buy. She straightened her spine. “Four sacks for feed and seed.” That should last awhile.
Mrs. Benson looked down the rest of the list. In Norwegian, she asked, “You will put this on Mr. Strand’s tab, ja? How would you like a cup of coffee while I fill this? It will take a few minutes; the oats are out in the back shed where Mr. Benson is working. You can sit on the back porch in the shade. And perhaps Leif would like some lemonade.”
He looked up at Signe, his big eyes asking, What is lemonade? Her eyes said, Be polite. “Ja, please.”
“Come with me.”
They walked through a storage area and out a door to another porch running the length of the building, but this one had a small table and cushioned chairs and was shaded not only by the porch roof but by a big maple tree with a wood swing hanging from the bottom branch by two thick ropes.
“My grandchildren play out here,” Mrs. Benson said. “You can swing if you want.”
Eyes round, Leif looked up at his mor, who nodded.
“Thank you,” Signe responded in English. At least she knew those words.
“My grandson Willem is about that age, but they live in Blackduck, so he don’t get out here much. You sit down there and be comfortable. Would you like lemonade too?” At Signe’s shrug, Mrs. Benson nodded. “You can try it.”
Signe sat in one of the chairs with a sigh. She needed to find out where they could water the horse. Leaning back against the cushion, she sighed again. Such a generous soul this woman had. Tante Gerd had said to come right back, but Signe didn’t feel like hurrying. Did Gerd ever sit out here and let a breeze cool her head and neck? Or was she rude to everyone, and being sick only made it worse?
Chapter
10
I warned you!”
The screech met Signe at the door. She looked to Knute, who shook his head as he ducked out the back door. Deciding to ignore the accusation, Signe stopped at the bedroom door. “What do you need, Tante Gerd?”
On the way home, with Leif handling the reins, she had decided she could ignore the nastiness and treat Gerd the way she herself would like to be treated if she were ill. Though she wondered if Gerd was so weak because she lay in bed all the time. Wouldn’t moving more make her stronger?
Gerd shook her head. “Your son is worthless.”
“What did he do that was so terrible?” From the look on her son’s face as he escaped out the door, Signe knew it had been hard. Someone attacking her she could handle—attacking her boys, now that was another matter.
“He took forever to come when I needed help, and I almost wet the bed.” She motioned to the floor, where a puddle gave mute testimony to her need. “And he brought lukewarm coffee with dinner!”
Signe had to concentrate on keeping a straight face. She’d had too nice a day to let this barrage bother her.
“I will talk to him about that and mop up the floor. Now, do you need help with the pot?”
“A bit late but nei, not now.”
“Good. Then I am going to put things away and make sure supper will be ready on time.”
She turned back to the kitchen and lifted her apron on over her head. She needed a new apron; this one was about shredded. The urge to either laugh or cry made her want to scream, but she’d need to be way out in the field where no one would hear her, and she dared not get that far from the house again.
Both boys brought the supplies in from the cart and set the bags and paper-wrapped parcels on the table.
“As soon as you put the horse away, I need wood in the woodbox.”
“I told Knute about the swing,” Leif said. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we had a big tree near the house where we could hang a swing?”
“Ja, it would be. You and Knute go unharness Rosie so she can eat.”
“What about the sacks of oats?”
“Leave those in the wagon for the men to carry.”
Knute brought in an armload of wood and dropped it in the woodbox. “I kept the fire going like you said and stirred the baked beans in the oven. But Far told me to split wood, and every time I got going, she’d scream at me. Couldn’t she hear I was splitting wood? I mean, before we came, she was here by herself most of the day, wasn’t she?” He shook his head. “And she called me ‘hey, you!’ or ‘boy.’” He turned and went outside, shaking his head. “I’ll be down at the barn,” he called over his shoulder.
Since she refused to raise her voice at Tante Gerd, Signe stopped at the bedroom door. Gerd was sound asleep, her mouth open, and snoring. She’d probably not slept earlier, too worried about Knute not being there to help her.
After opening the windows again, she checked on the beans and paused to admire the rich brown of beans baked all day in the oven. She had another dressed rabbit out in the well house, keeping cool, to fry for supper. Catching herself humming one of the hymns from back home reminded her to ask if there was a church here. She’d seen the school at Benson’s Corner but no sign of a church. Not that they’d been very faithful church attenders back home, something that grieved Gunlaug, Rune’s mor.
After filling one bucket with hot water from the reservoir and scraping soap into it, she scooped lime from the bag the boys had set on the back porch into another bucket. Carrying both buckets along with rags and a brush, she headed for the outhouse. After throwing the lime down the hole, she fetched the broom and swept out all the cobwebs, then scrubbed the whole inner building, especially the seat and the floor. By tomorrow they might not have to hold their breath to use it.
On the way back to the house, she noted the weeds along the path. Surely Knute knew how to use a scythe well enough to cut down weeds. She could if he couldn’t. She set the buckets on the porch and walked over to the garden. About a third of it, what looked like the potato patch, still lay hidden beneath weeds. Which was more important for the boys to do, pull weeds or split wood? If there wasn’t still so much scrubbing to do inside . . . She leaned over and pulled a handful of weeds. Everything was important. According to the sun, it was about four o’clock. If she pulled weeds for an hour or so, she’d still have time to scrub a couple of walls, or go upstairs and sweep and mop the floor so that tonight they could move their pallets out of the parlor.
She bent to pull weeds, tossing them in a pile for the boys to haul to the hogs. With the windows open, she’d hear if Tante screeched for her.
Knute joined her. “Mor, how come you’re out here?”
“Because you did such a fine job in the house while I was gone that now I can help you.” She watched his tiny grin turn into full bloom. Come to think of it, she’d not seen or heard Knute laugh much at all since they came here. Other than with Rosie. This place and her boys needed a dog, the house needed a cat, and if they were going to eat this winter, this garden needed a whole lot of work.
She could scrub after the mosquitoes came out.
Leif joined them as well, and the three of them pulled weeds, leaving her mind free to think about all the other work that needed to be done. And relive her visit with Elmira Benson at the store. The lemonade was a special treat. Sitting in the shade, listening to the birds chatter in the shade trees, watching Leif swinging and laughing, then jumping off and flying through the air to land with a thump.
“My pile is higher than your pile,” Knute said to Leif.
She had finished one row and turned back on the next. Kneading her lower back with her fists, she stretched her neck from side to side. Perspiration dripped off her nose and ran down the sides of her face. She’d not even been aware of it.
“Mor, your face is all red.” Leif held up a handful of foot-long weeds. “How come they call these pigweed?”
“Why do you think?”
“’Cause the pigs like them and they grow fast and all over the place?”
Knute added, “That old sow should have her babies any day now. Onkel Einar told me this morning. He said we need to keep an eye on her so she doesn’t lie on her babies when they’re born and smother them.” He tossed a handful of weeds onto the pile. “Pa said our sow at home was too smart and careful of her babies to do that. He said he thought sure she looked around and counted them before she lay down.” He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm, looking so much like his far that it caught Signe by surprise.
“Your far has always been good with animals,” she said as she bent back to pulling weeds. Hopefully Rune could pass that on to his boys, not that there was much time now, with the men out cutting down trees until dusk. When she got to the end of that row, she straightened again. “I need to get back to the house. How much wood is in the box?”
“Enough to make supper. I need to split more.” Knute blew out a cheek-puffing breath. “I’ll do that when we get the potatoes done. The corn is next.”
“You’ll need to start chores in an hour or so.”
“I know.”
Signe returned to the house, stooping to pick up an armload of wood on her way in. The thumps of wood falling into the woodbox brought a screech from the bedroom.
“Signe!”
“I’m right here. Let me wash my hands first and I’ll be in to help you.”
At least the kitchen smelled rich with the fragrance of baking beans and not the stink of mice and dirt. Out the kitchen window, she could see the boys continuing to weed. How good it had felt to be out there. How Einar had gotten the garden worked up and planted amazed her. He must have been a machine to do it all alone. Of course, he’d not been felling trees, since he needed to be near the house to help Gerd. No wonder he was so desperate for them to get here. Could that be what made him so grumpy?
In Gerd’s room, she pulled the chair over by the bed.
“Nei!”
“Ja, you will sit up for a while and then for supper too.” She helped the woman stand up, use the pot, and then instead of going back to bed, Signe grasped Gerd around the waist and turned her to sit in the chair. For the effort she got a clout on the shoulder and a string of muttering. “Would you like something to drink? The coffee is not hot right now, but I can bring you water or buttermilk or milk. And, if you like, a slice of buttered bread.” Signe paused and watched Gerd’s face.
The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “Coffee.”
“Nei. Milk, water, or buttermilk.”
“Coffee!”
“Nei. I’ll be back later to help you to bed.” Signe left the sputtering woman to think this through.
Deciding to make corn bread for supper, she stepped outside and inhaled the scents of summer. Turned earth, growing grass, and—she wrinkled her nose. Something was missing. Ah, the overlay of the outhouse. The lime was already doing its work. Signe stepped into the well house and stood still for a moment, letting the coolness sink in after the heat of the outdoors. There were four flat pans with the cream risen to the top that she needed to skim. Now or later? Later. With the jug of buttermilk in one hand, she tucked a couple of eggs into her apron pockets and closed the door behind her. The heat smote her, but with the sun falling toward the horizon, the air would cool soon.
Back in the house, she set down her things and checked on Tante. Chin on her chest, Gerd was sound asleep. Leave her there or put her back to bed so she didn’t end up with a crick in her neck? Leave her be.
Back at the stove, since she needed to get the oven hot enough for corn bread, Signe set the pan of baked beans on the reservoir and shoved more wood into the firebox. The steam rising from around the pan lid made her mouth water for baked beans. Supper seemed like a long time away. If the boys were as hungry as she was . . . ach, silly! They were always hungry.
She sliced three pieces of bread, buttered them and spread jam, then went to the door and called the boys.
“Sit here on the steps.” She brought out glasses of buttermilk and a plate with the slices of bread.
“Is this supper?” Knute asked.
She shook her head. “Because you worked so hard.”
“Takk.” They spoke in unison with matching grins.
“We never had this back home,” Knute said.
“I know. Things are different here.” She sat beside them and leaned against the porch post.
A bit later, the boys grinned at each other when the cow bellowed that it was time for milking. They handed Signe their empty glasses and headed to the barn for their chores.
Once she had the corn bread out of the oven and the rabbit all cut up and floured, she returned to the well house to skim the pans, pouring some of the milk into a jug for the house and the rest into buckets for the boys to feed to the hogs. The cream all went into a covered crock for churning butter. One of these days, as soon as she had some rennet, she’d set some whole milk for cheese. Of course, she could set some now and make cottage cheese, then drain that for soft cheese. One of these days. So many things to do.
Back in the house, she put the big skillet on the hot part of the stove and added bacon grease to fry the rabbit. Once it was browning, she returned to the bedroom and laid a gentle hand on Tante’s shoulder.
“Tante, wake up, and I’ll help you back to bed.”
Gerd raised her head. “I was not sleeping. You left me here all afternoon.”
“Only for a little while.” She took both of Tante’s hands. “Stand up now and turn.”
Back in bed, the old woman sighed. “I told you I do not want to sit in the chair.”
“I’ll bring your supper later. I need to go turn the rabbit.”
“Did you bake beans?”
“Ja.”
“I thought so. Baked beans always make the house smell good.”
Signe waited, in case Gerd wanted to say more. But no matter, that was almost a compliment. Might things get better?
“Benson had oats, eh?” Onkel Einar commented after he devoured his supper. “And lime.”
“Along with soap and mousetraps. The three most important things.” Signe sat down at the table and dished up her plate. There was one piece of rabbit left. When she put it on her plate, she glanced up to see Rune smile at her. He’d made sure there was a piece left for her. She nodded her thanks. She should have fried two rabbits, but one was all she had.
“Anything in your snares today?” she asked Knute.
“Nei.” He nodded toward the remaining piece of corn bread.
Rune shook his head. “Nei, that is for your mor. She has to eat too, you know.”
“There is more in the pan. I’ll cut some.” She glanced around the table. “Anyone else?”
Bjorn nodded and reached for the plate of corn bread.
Einar stopped him. “We need to sharpen the axes. You had enough.” He pushed his chair back. “Rune, you’ll work on the saw blades. I saw the house is about out of wood too. I thought you two younger ones could keep up with that woodbox.”
Signe stared at Rune, willing him to stand up for his boys. Einar obviously did not remember that one had gone with her to the store and the other took care of Einar’s wife. When Rune refused to either speak or meet her gaze, she snapped her jaw shut. While Tante Gerd screeched at her, Onkel Einar expected these boys to carry on a man’s jobs. And not eat as much as he did and in shorter time.
And they were all still growing. Growing boys needed a lot of food and time to eat it.
“You’ve been here almost two weeks now,” Einar said as he pushed his chair back from the table, “and we have felled only eight trees. I figured two a day with three of us. We got to do more.”
Again she waited for Rune to answer. Sucking in a deep breath and making sure her anger did not glint through, she said, “You’ve taught them a lot in the time we’ve been here. Seasoned loggers would do more, but Rune and Bjorn will get stronger and better with time.”<
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As soon as she said the words, she knew she should have kept her mouth shut. But someone had to make Einar see reason.
A glare narrowed his eyes. He grumbled his way to the door. “You two coming?” He stopped. “Knute, that sow look or act any different today? Like making a nest?” He sent a glare Signe’s way that brought up her back.
She looked to Rune, but he only shook his head.
Knute thought a moment before answering. “She didn’t eat as much.”
“That young gilt, she should have hers in another month or so. You need to watch her too. She don’t know what she’s doing.” He looked to Rune. “You ever built a farrowing stall?”
“If you mean nailing some boards at an angle across one corner so the piglets can go under there to get away, ja.” His jaw tightened in a way only Signe might recognize. “I can do that, or I can sharpen the saws.”
Einar did not look pleased. “You better get that corner in place. That old girl is going to drop them any day now. Can’t afford to lose those babies. Got three people wanting to buy weaner pigs. Hogs is in demand up here. Bjorn can sharpen the axes, and I’ll take the file to the saw blade.” He shook his head with its perpetual scowl and stomped away down the porch steps.
Uff da, that man.
Chapter
11
You finish your supper, boys. Bjorn, get down to the grinder quick as you can. Knute and Leif, meet me at the barn.”
Out on the back porch, Rune settled his hat firmly on his head. His boys needed to eat. They worked hard all day too. Having never had children, Einar just didn’t know. Rune wondered what his onkel’s life had been like growing up, but since it was in Norway, there was no one here he could ask. And Einar never mentioned his life in Norway.
Rune found the handsaw, some boards, and a hammer and nails, and went into the dark barn. He’d need a kerosene lantern. Were there any hanging in the milking side of the barn? He couldn’t remember. Einar had one in the machine shed, where he was sharpening the saw blade.
The Promise of Dawn Page 10