The Promise of Dawn

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Did you eat?”

  “Could use something.”

  “I will fix you something.” In the kitchen she lit a kerosene lamp so she could see to slice bread and spread butter and jam. She handed it to Einar, who had followed her. “I could go out to the well house and bring in buttermilk.” She glanced at the stove. “Or heat the coffee.”

  “Neither. I’m going to bed.” He blew out a breath. “Sun will be up before we know it.”

  She watched him shuffle to the bedroom. “Takk.”

  Gratitude swelled her heart. He had brought her son back with no other accidents. She blew out the lamp and returned to the parlor, where Rune sat beside his son, arms around his bent legs and resting his chin on his knees. He looked up at her. “Thank God for bringing them home safe. So many things could have happened.”

  “You shouldn’t have been out there working on Sunday.” She knelt to feel Bjorn’s forehead. Cool, no fever, not that she expected one. Just a reflex action.

  She should not have said that. It was not Rune’s fault they had been working on a Sunday. Was God vengeful and punishing them? If that were so, why punish an innocent boy instead of the man who decreed they would work until they dropped?

  She removed her shoes and lay down. Dawn would be here too soon to bother undressing.

  Knute was nearly asleep when he muttered, “Did you check on Daisy?”

  “Ja, I did. No babies yet.” Rune removed his boots and lay down again. “We must be thankful.”

  True, but . . . it should not have happened in the first place. Signe rolled onto her side only to feel the baby moving around. Could babies get uncomfortable? This one certainly was letting her know. A wave of weariness washed over her, leaving her drowning in the need to sleep, to rest. She would think about all this tomorrow. Not that sunrise was very far away.

  She groaned at the rooster’s crow. It seemed she’d just fallen asleep, but an urgent need for the outhouse brought her to her feet. Barefoot she hurried out the back door. Back outside, she paused to breathe the fragrances of a summer morning. Green growing things, pine trees, split wood, blooming wild flowers—both daisies and sun-gold dandelions—all overlaid with a touch of both cows and pigs.

  The rooster crowed again. The cow bellowed that it was milking time.

  Past time to get going.

  “Morning, Mor.” Knute came out the door as she stopped at the bottom step.

  “The cow said she’s waiting.”

  “Then I’m late.”

  Leif came out behind him. “Bjorn is waking up.”

  “Good.” She heard the grate rattling. “Far?”

  “Ja, he said he’d start the stove. What is for breakfast?”

  “Fried cornmeal mush and eggs.”

  “From the well house?” At her nod, he grinned. “I’ll get them.”

  “Takk.” She watched him scamper off toward the barn.

  Rune was adding more wood to the fire and had already pulled the coffeepot over to heat. He smiled at her, but weariness still sagged his eyes. “Leif went to check on Daisy?”

  “Ja. How is Bjorn?”

  “Probably needs the outhouse. You start breakfast, and I’ll go help him.”

  “Takk.” She reached for two frying pans and scooped lard from the crock where she kept the bacon drippings. Leaving the pan to heat, she hurried to open the back door for Leif, who had his hands full.

  “I’ll be right back with the cream. Do you want milk or buttermilk too?” he asked.

  “No porridge this morning, so the cream will be enough.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn and grab the screen door before it slammed. While her smile didn’t quite reach her face, she could feel it. She sliced the cornmeal brick she had set in bread pans and laid the slices in the sizzling grease. Eggs would go in the other pan.

  Was Onkel Einar up and out already? He didn’t usually sleep in, but then, he wasn’t usually up until just before dawn.

  “Morning, Mor.” Bjorn sounded so strange and distant. His far stood right beside him, ready to catch him if he started to collapse.

  She turned to smile at her son and watched them go outside. Breakfast would be easy for Bjorn to eat, no meat to cut.

  Still no noise from the bedroom. Was Onkel Einar that weary, or was he sick? Should she knock on the door? Surely Tante Gerd would be demanding help any moment.

  Leif and Knute came in together, both looking confused.

  “Can’t Bjorn hear us?”

  “Nei.” Signe pointed to the sink. “Did you strain the milk?”

  “Ja, but the pans need to be skimmed so we can pour the milk into them. We got enough cream to churn butter again,” Knute announced. “You think Bjorn is always going to be deaf?”

  “I wish I knew. Only time will tell.”

  “Onkel Einar said to call him when breakfast is ready. He’s down sharpening another saw.” Leif scrubbed his hands. “Daisy is still eating. I think she likes being by herself. She doesn’t have to fight for food.”

  Signe slid a plate of fried mush in the warming oven and cracked eggs into the pan of fat. “Knute, pour the milk.”

  Bjorn and Rune made their way back into the house, Bjorn with his jaw clenched against the pain. He took his regular seat at the table.

  “Leif, run and get Onkel Einar.” Signe motioned out the door. He took off, shoving open the screen door, but with a slick turn caught it before it slammed shut. He grinned at her and jumped to the ground, ignoring the steps.

  Uff da, to have such energy.

  When Einar came through the door, he nodded at seeing Bjorn at the table. He dropped his voice and looked at Signe. “Can he hear at all yet?”

  “Nei.” She slid the fried eggs onto a platter and set it on the table, along with the platter of fried mush. “There is syrup or jam for the mush, so help yourselves.” The look on her boys’ faces at the mention of syrup made Signe glad she’d traded some of the butter for it at Benson’s store.

  As usual Einar filled his plate full before passing it on to Rune, who took far less and slid mush and eggs onto Bjorn’s plate, giving him a smile of encouragement.

  “He can’t use his right arm at all, huh?” Leif asked.

  “Not for several weeks. And then it will be weak.” Signe cracked more eggs into the pan, thankful she had made plenty of fried mush.

  Einar glared at Leif. No talking at the table.

  Signe filled the men’s coffee cups and set the pot back on the stove. She’d just slid the next batch of eggs onto the platter when the summons came from the bedroom.

  “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “I need you now!”

  “Coming.” Sliding the pans to the cooler part of the stove and wiping her hands on her apron, she hurried to the bedroom. They had closed the windows again, so the room smelled bad and was stuffy. “Good morning.”

  Gerd shook her head. “Help me.”

  Signe flipped back the covers and held out her hand, deliberately making Gerd reach for it, earning herself another glare. “Come on, sit up.”

  She waited until Gerd reached for her hand and used it to help pull herself up.

  “I will help you.” But I will not do it for you anymore. “Good, good.” She nodded as Gerd inched her feet to the side. Signe helped her twist and scoot toward the edge. When her feet hit the floor, Gerd panted, hanging her head.

  “You are trying to kill me!”

  “Just trying to help you get stronger. Leif suggested the men carry you in your chair to the table so you can eat with all of us.”

  “Nei, I cannot do that.”

  “We will see.”

  When Gerd finished her business, Signe helped her stand and moved her to the chair.

  “Bed!”

  “Breakfast is ready. We are having fried mush and eggs. How many eggs do you want? And syrup or jam on the mush?”

  “Two. Syrup. No syrup for a long time.”

  By the time Signe had served Gerd, the
others had finished eating. “More coffee?”

  “Ja.” Einar held up his cup. “Soon as we finish here, Rune, you and me will go out and start limbing those trees that are down. Saws are all sharp for tomorrow.” He narrowed his eyes and looked at Knute. “You think he can handle an axe for the limbing?”

  “Ja, I can do that.” Knute nearly bounced in his chair.

  Rune looked at Signe. “The garden is clean, so we can keep it up.”

  He is too young for this, she thought. He can split wood, but that is different. Rune, why do you put me on the spot like this?

  She gave Einar a stolid look. “He is not a man yet. Who will do his chores here?”

  “I can milk the cow,” Leif offered.

  “And I expect Bjorn out there again.” Einar sipped his hot coffee. “He still has one good arm. He can drag limbs to the pile one-handed.”

  Signe’s doubt and concern fell aside as fury slammed into her. “Absolutely not! He remains here at home.”

  Einar’s voice rose. “I give the orders here. You seem to forget that.”

  “And I am responsible for my son’s welfare. When he is alert and well enough to move freely, we will consider it. Today he remains home to rest.”

  Einar’s glare burned into her.

  Her glare burned just as hotly back at him.

  He leapt to his feet, his coffee not quite finished, and stormed out.

  Rune stared at the door. “I’m not sure you should have done that. He paid our way.”

  “He did not buy slaves. If you will not stand firm for your son, I guess I will have to.”

  Rune did not reply. He stood up and silently plopped his hat on his head on his way out the door.

  What a mess, and it was all Signe’s fault. She should never have said that. She had thought it a hundred times, but she never should have said it.

  She glanced at Bjorn, who looked about to fall off his chair. “Come, I will fix your medicine, and you can go back to bed.”

  Of course he could not hear her. Why did she keep forgetting? Gerd would just have to wait.

  Signe poured the doctor’s powder into a glass of water, stirred it vigorously, and handed it to Bjorn. He looked at her, then at the medicine, and wrinkled his nose, but he gulped it down.

  Leif looked at Bjorn. “Should I help him back to bed?”

  “That would be good, ja. Takk.”

  She watched while Leif took Bjorn’s good hand and pointed toward the parlor, then mimed sleeping. They both stood and walked to the parlor. Signe followed a few feet behind and watched as the younger brother laid back the sheet and motioned for Bjorn to lie down. A bed would be so much easier for him to get in and out of. Bjorn grimaced and grunted as he dropped to his knees and propped himself up with his left hand. Surely a bench or a chair could help him.

  Signe went to Gerd’s room.

  “What took you so long?” Gerd grumbled.

  “I had to give Bjorn his pain medicine.”

  Gerd shook her head. “Must hurt a lot.”

  Signe removed the tray and set it on the chest of drawers so she could help Gerd back to bed. The older woman was asleep before Signe made it to the kitchen. Leif was putting the dishes in the dishpan on the stove.

  “Takk,” she said.

  He smiled at her and handed her a plate of breakfast that had been in the warming oven.

  “Tusen takk.” She sat down at the table and poured syrup on the mush. The egg yolks were hard, but she ignored that and finished her meal in peace. Leif even poured her a cup of coffee. She smiled at him. “You are a good helper. Takk again. I think there might be bread you can eat with butter and jam.”

  With another grin, he fixed his treat and sat down with her. “If it looks like Daisy might farrow tonight, can Knute and I sleep in the barn?”

  “If you want.” She propped her elbows on the table and sipped her coffee. “Knute might be too tired, you know.”

  He shrugged and finished off his bread. “Good thing it rained. The garden liked it.”

  “Ja, the weeds will really grow too. We need to hill up the potatoes and the pumpkins. Do you know how?”

  “Ja. I will. How long will Bjorn sleep?”

  “The longer the better.” She picked up her plate and put her dishes in the dishpan. The two of them finished clearing the table.

  “He will be able to hear again, won’t he?”

  “I hope so. Oh, I hope so.”

  Chapter

  14

  Rune strode along with an axe on his shoulder, sometimes glancing down at Knute, who held a lighter axe. The thought of his younger son on the way to a man’s work set his insides to grinding. Not that he wasn’t already doing a man’s work with sawing and splitting wood and all the other chores he did around the farm. He learned quickly. But—Rune still shuddered. The accident with Bjorn was too new, and the uncertain outcome made it hard for him to sleep.

  Knute could haul branches to the burning piles, so he needn’t use that axe. After all, Bjorn spent a lot of his time out here doing just that.

  A crow greeted them when they reached the cleared land. Einar led the way to the felled trees that awaited limbing. He looked down at Knute. “You start cutting off the limbs about a third of the way down from the top, going upward, then you can drag the limbs over to those piles. We’ll burn the brush piles when winter comes. Chop from the underside and close to the trunk.”

  Knute nodded and made his way to the fallen trees. Rune started limbing the lowest branches and worked toward his son.

  “They look even bigger on the ground.” Knute turned to Rune. “Some of these branches are bigger around than other trees. Shame to waste all that stove wood. Leif and me could cut these up with the saw.”

  “Good idea, but I think Onkel Einar figures that takes too long.”

  Knute shrugged and headed for the upper part of the fallen giant. “Far, how will we ever roll the log over to do the branches underneath?”

  “You’ll see.”

  They both started chopping. Every once in a while, Rune would look up to see how Knute was doing. Once the boy was stretching his arms over his head, another time he was wiping sweat from his face. Einar worked on another tree, the steady ring of their axes against green wood now a familiar beat after these weeks in the woods.

  “How your hands doing, boy?” Einar asked when they were nearly done with the first tree.

  Knute wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. “Not so bad.”

  Rune stopped swinging his axe and went to his son. “Pull off those gloves and let me see.” He knew his son well enough to know he would keep going until he dropped.

  Knute flinched when he pulled off the leather gloves and held out both hands. Several blisters rose on each palm.

  “I think you’ve done enough chopping for today. Go back to the house and have Mor take care of those.”

  “But what about dragging branches over to the pile?”

  “Ja, good idea.” Einar nodded as he spoke. “We got plenty to drag now.”

  Knute looked at Rune. “What will Mor do to my hands?”

  “Drain the blisters, soak them for a while, and then she’ll bandage your hands. Can’t afford infection.” He glanced over at Einar, who shrugged and turned away.

  “I can work another couple hours anyway,” Knute suggested. “See how low the sun is?”

  Einar wiped his forehead and reset his hat. He raised his axe and buried it in the next branch. “You can start a new pile closer by. Over there.” He waved an arm.

  Knute gingerly pulled his gloves back on and leaned over to grab a branch with each hand.

  Rune looked off to the west, where the sun had started its evening plunge to the horizon. Trees blocked their view, so the light was already dimming. He watched his tired son for a moment. He should have insisted Knute head for the house immediately. Instead he was letting a woman do what he as a father should be doing: standing up for his boys. His cowardi
ce—that was what it was, cowardice—made him angry with himself.

  “That’s a good place for the next pile,” Einar called.

  Knute dropped his load and headed back for more.

  The next time Rune looked up, his son was staring at the growing pile, his chest heaving, head drooping. “That’s enough, Knute. Go on back to the house. Tell your mor we’ll be there in an hour or so.”

  Knute nodded and trudged toward the road.

  “Did you check your snares this morning?” Rune called after him.

  Knute waved his hand and nodded but kept on walking.

  Einar called a halt some time later. The shadows were long in the woods as they walked back to the house, but dusk had yet to appear between the trees. Evening birdsong heralded the closing of the day. When they cleared the woods, the cow stood outside the barn door. They set the axes in the machine shed and headed to the house for a drink. They met Leif on the back porch.

  “Any change in the sow?” Onkel Einar asked.

  Leif shrugged. “Not that I could see. The hen that was setting now has three chicks. There are three more to hatch.”

  “What are you doing next?”

  “Milking. Mor said to give Knute time off. She wrapped his hands all up.”

  Einar shook his head. “Needs to toughen up.”

  He and Rune pulled the screen door open and stopped at the sink. Rune took the pump handle, and after a few pumps, water gushed into the glass he held. He handed that one to Einar and filled his own. They both drank, turning to lean against the sink.

  Signe paused in the far doorway. “You’re back.”

  “How is Bjorn?”

  “Sleeping again. I gave him more of the laudanum.” She shook her head. “He can’t hear yet.” She looked to Einar, who had refilled his glass. “Did you ask the doctor about the hearing?”

  “He said it can take a couple days or longer, or sometimes not at all.”

  Signe wiped her face with the edge of her apron. “Uff da.” She closed her eyes for an instant. “Supper is not ready. Not for an hour or so.”

  “I’m going down to put a better edge on the axes.” Einar left, carrying another glass of water.

  Rune set his glass down. “I better get to splitting wood.”