“You have another lantern?” Rune asked after walking over. Shouting would have been easier, but they did enough shouting out in the woods.
“Hanging inside the door where the stanchions are.” Einar never looked up from his filing. “That boy getting out here before morning?”
“I’m right here, Onkel Einar.” Bjorn stepped into the circle of light. “I’ll drag the grinding stone over to the light.”
“Make sure no dried grass is near.”
“I know.”
Einar looked up. “If you know so much, why’d you ask?”
Bjorn started to say something, but at the shake of Rune’s head, he stopped. “Yes, sir.”
Rune helped his son drag the heavy grindstone over to the light, then returned to the barn for the other lantern. This job would have been so much easier during daylight.
Knute and Leif slid to a stop after racing to the barn. Their laughter over who won made Einar look up and glare.
“What do you want me to do, Far?” Knute asked.
“Go light that lantern by the stanchions so we can measure the stall.”
Wisely, Einar had built a big box stall in one corner of the barn, across from the horse stalls. He’d done a better job on the barn than the house, but that wasn’t surprising. Rune and Leif moved the boards and tools inside, and when Knute brought the lighted lantern, Rune hung it on a nail in a post.
“Now we measure that corner.” He motioned to the inside wall. “We’ll nail two boards on the stall walls so we don’t need to miter the corners. Then we’ll nail the two boards we’ll cut to the uprights, six to eight inches above the floor. You’ll need to get some bedding in here. Cut some grass, or the sweepings from the haymow would work too.”
He showed the boys where to nail the uprights and drew a line there with the sharp end of a nail. “Now, Knute, nail those two short pieces up there. Leif, you hold them in place.” He watched the boys do as he said. He could do it faster himself, but the boys needed to learn to do everything on a farm, just like he had. Besides, his eyes were not good enough anymore to cut and mark lumber in this dim light. His far had already gone blind by the time Rune was old enough to work in the barn.
With the uprights nailed in place, he unfolded the wooden measuring rule, and they measured the length from one upright to the other. “Now we’ll cut two boards that length and nail them across the corner. The baby pigs can hide under here when their mother lies down. Some sows are careless and can lie on their babies or step on them, while others are very careful and check to see where the babies are before they lie down.”
“Pigs can’t count, can they, Far?” Leif, always the questioner, asked.
“Not in our terms, but they know. God gave animals good thinking brains too. You pay attention, and you’ll see that.”
“Like the cows knowing which is their stanchion?”
“Ja, that is true. Now, measure that board this length.” He held his thumb on the number on the measuring rule.
“And draw a line with a nail again?”
“Right. Then cut on that line. And do it again with the other board.”
Knute cut both pieces, and then he and Leif nailed them to the uprights.
“Good job. Tomorrow you get some bedding in here, and we’ll move that sow into her new home. Now, you two put the tools away and put the lantern back.”
Rune rubbed his eyes. Good thing he’d let the boys do the measuring. He’d not been sure of the numbers. The lines all ran together. At the grinding wheel, he tapped Bjorn on the shoulder. “How are you doing?”
“Two done, two to go.”
“Give me the goggles. I’ll do those. You boys get on up to bed.”
Bjorn handed his far the goggles and Rune settled himself on the grinder’s seat. Snapping the goggles over his glasses and picking up the axe, he set his feet on the pedals and pumped the wheel up to a speed sufficient for sharpening. If he didn’t keep moving, he’d fall asleep right here.
By the time he finished both axe heads, he realized Onkel had gone up to the house. Rune checked the saw blade. It was finished. He blew out the lantern and waited for his eyes to adjust. The moon lit the path to the back porch. In the parlor, he shucked his clothes and slid under the sheet without waking Signe. She needed the sleep more than or at least as badly as he did.
Tomorrow was Sunday, but it looked like it would be just like any other day for felling trees. Not a day of rest by any means. He’d heard there was a church at Benson’s Corner, but no mention had been made of attending. Not that they’d been that strict in church attendance at home either.
Sleep buried the thought so deeply that he didn’t even hear Signe get up to start breakfast in the morning. When he finally heard the rooster crowing, the fragrance of coffee dragged him from bed. He shook his boys’ shoulders when whispering their names didn’t make them stir. Rune did not want Onkel Einar yelling at them for being lazy. They were doing the work of men, and they were not lazy but growing boys.
The wind came up midmorning with the sky overhead turning darker by the moment. They stopped for dinner at midday, although not being able to see the sun made it harder to tell the actual time. Signe had packed them a sandwich of rabbit and cheese. The three of them had sat on a log to eat when light raindrops began to cool the air. They moved under a tree for protection and finished eating. One of Bjorn’s tasks was to lead the horses to the creek to drink and to refill the water jug, so he hauled himself over to the horses, raising his face to feel the mist.
“So do we wait it out, keep working, or go home?” Rune asked.
“We wait to see if there is thunder and lightning. Once that passes, we can go back to work. A little rain never hurt anyone. Good for the hayfield and the garden.”
“Sure cooled off fast.” A blast of wind made Rune shiver. “Just sitting here is chilly.”
“Where’s that boy of yours?”
“His name is Bjorn, and he just left to water the horses.” Rune looked over at Einar. “You ever catch any fish in the creek?”
“No time to fish. But in a mile or so, the creek runs into a lake. Not fished there neither.”
“Knute is a good fisherman. Do you have any gear so he could catch fish?” Rune heaved a sigh. “Fried fish sounds mighty good.”
“No, but he could hike to Benson’s and buy some hooks and line. Any branch will do for a pole.”
“I’ll mention that to him tonight. What kind of fish might he catch?”
“I’ve heard perch and sunfish, maybe bass. They catch walleye from boats or long docks. No dock there, have to fish from the bank.”
“Trout in the creek?”
“Maybe.” It was Einar’s turn to shiver at a blast of wind. Thunder rolled toward the west. “Shoulda brought a file to sharpen the saw blade while we wait.” A bolt of lightning lit the nearly black sky. “That boy of yours got the sense to bring the team back? We might as well head to the house.”
“He’d let the horses get their fill first. He’s careful about animals.”
Rain dripped down Rune’s back from the brim of his felt hat. Another bolt of lightning raced through the sky, and this time the thunder crashed within seconds. Rune heaved himself to his feet and headed toward the path to the creek. The sky lit. Thunder crashed simultaneously. An explosion rocked the ground. One of the horses screamed, and the team came galloping down the path, crashing through the trees.
“Lightning struck!” Einar reached for the flapping tie rope, but the horses flew past.
Where was Bjorn? Rune tore down the path. Lord God, let him be alive. Ahead he could see a shattered tree, flames devouring the branches. “Bjorn!” Up ahead, the creek shimmered gold, reflecting the burning tree. Sparks sizzled when they hit the water. “Bjorn!”
He saw a boot off to the right in the brush. Oh, dear Lord. Not far from the boot, his son was trying to push himself up but collapsed with a scream.
“Stay where you are. Let me help you.”
/> Bjorn kicked his legs and tried to roll over, but cried out again.
Rune knelt beside him and laid a hand on his back. “I’m here, son. You’re going to be all right.”
Einar knelt on the other side. “What’s wrong?”
“I-I am not sure, but I don’t think he can hear me. See, he shakes so. Perhaps something is broken too.” Rune leaned close and spoke directly into Bjorn’s ear. “Take it easy, we are here to help.”
Bjorn grabbed his hand and clung to it as if he were terrified.
Rune looked at Einar. “Let’s turn him over carefully, I will hold his shoulders, you take his feet. Turn him your way.” He grasped Bjorn’s shoulder, and Einar took his legs. “On three.” He lifted the shoulder. Bjorn went rigid and then slack.
“He passed out.”
“Good.”
They straightened his body, and Rune saw that his right arm lay at an unusual angle.
“His arm is broken.” Einar sounded disgusted.
“Ja, I see.” Rune ripped his shirt open and tore it off. “I am going to tie it to him so I can carry him back to the house.” He smoothed wet hair back from Bjorn’s pale face. A bump was already swelling on his forehead.
“He’s too heavy for you to carry,” Einar said. “I’ll get the team. They’ll have stopped at the barn.”
Rune looked up at the tree, still burning. “Lift him so I can get this shirt under him.” Together they wrestled the shirt in place and tied the sleeves and front hems together to hold Bjorn’s arm snug against his body. Lord, give me strength.
Bjorn shook and his eyes fluttered open.
“Easy now.”
Terror filled his son’s eyes. “Far? Far? I cannot hear.” His voice rose to a scream.
That answered one question. Rune nodded and patted Bjorn’s good arm. He looked to Einar. “How about if we both carry him?”
Einar shook his head. “Might break that arm worse. You stay here, and I will get the horses.”
He took off running before Rune could even answer him. Bjorn was shaking so much that Rune lay down beside him to try to warm him. Under the wagon might be better than here in the rain, with big drops falling from the tree branches.
“C-c-cold.”
“I know.”
“M-my arm.”
Rune raised up on one elbow so Bjorn could see his face. “Broken.”
“I-I c-an n-not h-hear you.” Tears leaked from his eyes, running into his ears.
Rune nodded. Oh, Lord, send Signe out here. What can I do? Please let my son have his hearing back. For a man who so rarely prayed, he sure was assaulting the gates of heaven now. Had the terrified horses really stopped at the barn like Einar thought? He’d sounded so sure. How long had he and his son been lying here, both of them shivering now? Had Einar made it back to the barn?
“Far, Far, where are you?”
Knute was coming. He could help warm his brother.
“Over here, by the creek.”
Panting, Knute ran along the trail. The rain had turned into a steady drizzle, which might be good for the crops but wasn’t helping Bjorn’s rapid loss of body heat.
“Mor is coming, but I ran faster. We started out when we saw the horses at the barn. I will show her the way.” He stared at his trembling brother.
“Is Mor bringing blankets?” Rune asked.
“Ja, one.”
“Did you see Einar?”
“Ja, he was almost to the barn.”
Relief was so warming, Rune almost stopped shivering. “Go show your mor where we are.” Knute was off and running before Rune finished his instructions. He looked down at his shaking son. He couldn’t even ask if there were other injuries. “Mor is coming and she has a blanket, so we can carry you out of here.” They had to carry him at least as far as the wagon.
Each minute seemed more like ten or twenty. How could time move so slowly? The fear and his constant, heavy weariness began to take their toll. Hurry, Signe.
He heard her huffing and puffing before he opened his eyes. Hearing her before seeing her bathed him in relief. “Thank God you are here.”
She dropped to her knees beside him.
“Mor, Mor, you’re here.” Bjorn tried to reach for her and then realized both his arms were restricted. He sniffed back the tears but then gave up and sobbed. “I cannot hear.”
She patted his face and nodded, brushing away her own tears. She spread the quilt over both of them. “We will get you home as fast as we can.” Her nodding and tremulous smile spread comfort even when her son couldn’t hear her words. She looked to Rune. “A lightning strike?”
“Ja, right across the creek. I think the force of the blast is what did it. The horses panicked and tore for the barn, and they must have knocked him into the tree, where he broke his arm and hit his head. I have heard of this before, and the hearing usually comes back after a while. We can pray for that.”
“I wish I had brought you a jacket.” While she talked, she gently felt Bjorn’s arm, nodding and smiling at her son as she moved her fingers, searching out injuries through the shirt tied around him. “We can slip the quilt under him, and the three of us can carry him to the wagon. Difficult but possible, right?”
“Ja, that is what I thought.” Rune smiled up at her. “You left Leif to watch Tante?”
She nodded and pushed herself upright, her thickening waist more visible as she arched her back to stretch. Should she be running and carrying a heavy load like this? He was so accustomed to her taking care of things without even a whimper that concern felt like a load dropped on his shoulders. Please, God . . . He knelt beside their wounded son. “I will lift him, and you and Knute slide the quilt under him.”
It worked; the quilt was crooked, but it was under him.
Signe patted Bjorn’s cheek, a mother’s touch. “Now we will carry you. Knute, you take that corner and Rune, this one, and I will carry both corners at his feet.” She looked to Rune, who nodded, fighting to get his breath back. They all leaned over, took their quilt corners, and lifted.
“Shame a road was not cleared to the creek. This trail . . .” Rune shook his head.
He hated himself just now! Signe working so hard and long while in the family way. His boys, working like men with no time to even go fishing. And he, struggling to keep up with muscles that had never worked so hard. His eyes seemed to be getting worse, but there was no clear way to tell how much, if any. Why, oh why, had he gotten them into this?
“I need to stop,” Signe huffed a few minutes later. “How much farther?”
“Lay him down very gently. One, two, three.”
They all gasped for breath, Rune and Knute leaning over. Rune turned to listen. Surely that was the jingle of the harness. “I think Einar is here with the horses. Let us go again, on three.”
They hoisted Bjorn off the ground and carried him step by painful step up the last of the trail to where the team waited.
Rune glanced at the horses as he passed. Ears swiveling, swishing tails, the team was obviously restless or fearful after their wild rout. “Go talk to the team,” he told Knute. “They need some gentling.”
“Rune, climb up in the wagon bed, and we will hand him over the wagon gate,” Einar ordered.
Bjorn looked wildly around. Then he took a deep breath and almost shouted, “Far, I think I can help if you keep me from falling. My legs are not broken.”
“We can try. Good thing you are not any bigger.”
By the time they had him sitting then lying on the makeshift bed in the wagon, they were all puffing and panting. Bjorn’s lip was bleeding again from his impact with the tree, so Signe took a handkerchief from her apron pocket and folded it, pantomimed putting it in her mouth and clamping down on it, then held it out to Bjorn. He clamped down on it.
“Should have done that before,” she muttered as she climbed up into the wagon beside him. “Rune, you sit on the other side, and we’ll cushion him as we can.”
As sharply as he felt the
jolts of the wagon wheels over the rough trail, Rune was not surprised when Bjorn slumped against him.
“Better this than awake,” Signe whispered, then shook her head and spoke in a normal tone. “Why am I whispering? He cannot hear me anyway.”
When Einar stopped the team by the house, after an eternity of jolting, Rune reached for her hand and squeezed it.
She squeezed back and raised her voice. “Is there a doctor near Benson’s Corner?”
“No, the closest is in Blackduck. You want I should ride to get him, if he’s available?”
“Or we take him there in the wagon,” Signe suggested.
“Or we can set the arm here. Cheaper that way.”
Rune closed his eyes. Set his son’s arm here to save a dollar? What was Einar thinking? Did he want to risk the arm not healing properly?
Chapter
12
They should not have been out there working like that on the Lord’s Day.
The thought kept nagging at Signe. While back home they’d not attended church every Sunday, they did often, and she always thought of the day as taking time for the rest the Bible spoke of. But here there had been no mention of the day being Sunday, and work went on as usual. And look what had happened. Her mor would have said it was their own fault.
But it was her son who was paying the price. An innocent!
Einar entered the parlor, where Bjorn lay sleeping on his pallet.
Signe asked, “Do you have some spirits here? I can make a medicine that—”
“No!” Einar roared. “There will be no spirits in this house, on this land, ever! No alcohol! Do you understand?”
“Not to drink. Given with honey as a dose, it helps pain.”
Einar’s face grew red. “I said no!”
Rune’s voice rumbled as evenly as ever. “We must get him to a doctor.”
Einar seemed to settle down a bit. “I say we should set his arm here. Not that difficult, I should think.”
Of course he would think that. It was cheaper, and it wouldn’t keep him or Rune from his precious logging. And quite possibly poor Bjorn, bearing the brunt of all this, would have a crippled arm for the rest of his life, or worse.
The Promise of Dawn Page 11