The Promise of Dawn

by Lauraine Snelling

  Einar had marked the next two trees, and the men settled into their normal routine. By dinnertime, Bjorn had taken the horses for a drink and fed them their measure of oats. He had the dinner basket set out, and as usual they fell to without much conversation.

  “How is your arm?” Rune asked after Einar went out to mark two more trees.

  “Hurts some, but not like yesterday.”

  “Good. But if wielding that axe starts it up again, you stop.” While his son nodded, Rune added, “I mean that, Bjorn. You do as I say, not Einar. You understand?”

  “Ja.” Bjorn started to say something else but apparently thought better of it.

  “Good.” Rune clapped his hand on his son’s shoulder.

  “Far, I was thinking maybe I could use the bow saw and cut up some of those bigger branches into stove lengths.”

  “I’ll see what he plans to do.”

  By the time Knute came jogging out to join them, Rune and Einar were sawing on their third tree of the day. After the third tree fell, Bjorn set to cutting limbs and Knute to dragging. Einar had said nothing about sawing the bigger branches.

  The next time Rune looked over, both boys were dragging branches, and he saw Knute was throwing all the branches up on the pile. Rune wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his arm and returned to swinging his axe.

  That night on the wagon ride back to the barn, Einar broke the silence. “One day we will cut all the big branches into lengths to dry and cut for the stove. There is a stack of those to haul back later.”

  “Do you have another tree dried for the house? We cut up the second to the last one already,” Knute asked.

  Einar grumbled under his breath. “Ja, there is another dead tree down by the hayfield, back in the woods. Never gone through so much stove wood before.”

  Rune ignored him. He knew that would be another thing held against Signe. Would the day ever come when this man appreciated what Signe was doing for him?

  Probably not. He did not seem to understand anything but felling trees. What had Gerd put up with all these years? Had he always been this way?

  “Looks like it might freeze tonight,” Einar announced after supper as he left the kitchen.

  “We’re running low on wood,” Signe called after him. She heard a snort behind her and turned to find Rune staring at her, mouth slightly open. Bjorn rolled his lips together to lock his laughter in, but his eyes gave him away. Knute’s eyes were too wide to blink, and Leif was choking on his laughter.

  “Anyone for äggakaka?” Signe asked as if nothing were amiss. “Milk?” She dished up the last of the äggakaka from the night before and served it to her family, keeping back a piece for Gerd. “So, Bjorn, how is your arm tonight?”

  “Sore, but not as bad as last night.”

  “And how long did you swing an axe?”

  “We dragged branches mostly,” Knute offered.

  “Good. Then tomorrow, do the same. Perhaps you will be able to swing that axe a little longer, build the strength back. You will heal faster that way.” She looked around at her family. They were most certainly fulfilling their part of the agreement with Onkel Einar and Gerd, no matter what Einar said.

  “Is there anything else in the garden that might freeze tonight?” Rune asked.

  “Nei. Mostly root crops still out there. We’ll dig them when we can. The potatoes are all in, and the squash. Mostly I need wood. Tomorrow I must do the wash again.”

  “How will you manage that washing machine by yourself?”

  That was not what concerned her. Carrying all the water did. She’d just have to only fill the buckets partway. She shrugged.

  “You boys get to bed. I’m going down to the machine shed.” Rune picked up his plate and cup to set in the dishwater, so the boys did the same.

  “Do you need anything?” Signe asked him.

  “Ja, I need you to get up to bed.”

  “I wanted to get a letter ready for the boys to take in the morning.”

  “That can wait another day or two.”

  “If we had stairs . . .”

  “I know, I know. I will talk to him again.”

  Crossing the yard to the outhouse in the morning made Signe grateful she had grabbed her shawl and put on her shoes. The world wore a mantle of brittle shine that crunched beneath her feet. The stars still hung in the west while a band of dawn pink widened in the east. The breeze made her shiver. Doing the wash today would not be so miserable as weeks earlier in the heat. Smoke from the chimney bent toward the west, growing visible as the world lightened. The rooster crowed, then cleared his throat and announced the dawn.

  “A bit early, Mister R. Your flock is not ready to wake yet.” Any more than we humans. How she would have loved to stay in her warm bed for even another few minutes. But while Rune had gone down to start the stove for her and said she should sleep a bit longer, the rest of her body had rebelled. So she started her day.

  The heat of the stove felt like the kiss of a friend. Holding her hands in the heat seemed to warm her entire body. She’d just set the coffeepot on the hot part of the stove when her sleepy-eyed sons trooped past on their way out to do the chores.

  “You better check your snares, Knute. We’d all appreciate some fresh meat.”

  “Is the venison gone?” Bjorn asked.

  “Nei. We have another smoked haunch. And some that I canned.”

  “I could go hunting again. I read once about so many ducks and geese flying south, they darkened the sky sometimes. You think that was true?”

  “Perhaps Onkel Einar would know.”

  Bjorn rolled his eyes. “Good thing we’re raising pigs.”

  Each of the boys carried buckets of water to fill the reservoir and the boiler on the stove before they sat down to eat. Knute had laid a skinned and gutted rabbit in the sink.

  Once the others were all out the door and she’d taken care of Gerd, Signe sorted the clothes and stirred the first of the sheets in the boiler on the stove. She filled the washing machine and wisely sat down to crank the handle. By the time she hung out the first sheets, the sun had driven the morning nip away and felt comforting on her back. The sheets would be dry in no time with the wind making them dance.

  “Can we have coffee?” Gerd called sometime later when Signe had just added more wood to the stove.

  “If you come out here.” Signe stopped in the doorway. Gerd had gotten up and was sitting in the chair by her bed, knitting soakers for the baby. “Let me pull the pot up, and I will be right in.” No matter how tired she felt, between fresh-smelling sheets on the clothesline and now this, her day had donned a fresh dress.

  Gerd laid her knitting aside and used both hands on the arms of the chair to help her stand. She picked up the yarn again and, using the cane Rune had made her, started toward the kitchen. One step at a time with Signe beside her, more for confidence than assistance, they progressed to the kitchen table.

  “Does Onkel Einar know how well you’re doing?”

  Gerd shrugged. “He never even mentioned the cane leaning against the nightstand.”

  “Perhaps he did not see it?”

  Gerd sat down at the table, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out as Signe had taught her. “Toast to go with the coffee?”

  “That sounds good.” Signe sliced the bread, slid the long toasting fork into it, and removed the front lid on the stove. After holding one side of the bread over the flame until golden, she turned it over and repeated. “Here, you butter this one while I toast the next.” When she sat down, she breathed a sigh of accomplishment. With her elbows propped on the table, she nursed her cup of coffee and thought. “It seems to me that you could eat at the table with us all tonight.”

  Gerd shook her head. “Dinner, yes, but not supper yet.”

  “All right. But how about sitting in the sun for a while? You and I will have dinner on the front porch.” It meant extra work for Signe, but it would be good for both of them. “I’ll move the little t
able between the chairs, and we can eat there.”

  Gerd nodded slowly. “I think I would like that.”

  “The more you walk, the more you will be able to walk.”

  After dinner, when she helped Gerd back to bed after putting fresh sheets on it, Signe felt like she had climbed a mountain. Until she saw a mouse run from behind the stove to the pantry. Time to set the traps again. With fall settling in, the mice were seeking shelter too. But not in this house.

  “Gerd, have you ever had a cat here?”

  “Nei, Einar does not like cats.”

  “What about you?”

  “I don’t mind cats a bit. They’re useful.”

  Signe smiled. “I am sure, too, he would not like mouse droppings in his oatmeal. Mrs. Benson said we could have two of her kittens when they were older. The barn cats are too wild to bring up to the house. Kittens would be perfect. I just saw a mouse in the kitchen.”

  “Traps?”

  “I already set them. They can’t keep up when the mice are breeding new litters all the time. We need cats around here.” She looked at Gerd.

  “Ja, I always wanted one, but . . .” Gerd shrugged.

  But it was not worth the fight. Signe could understand that. Einar on a rampage was not a pleasant sight.

  Two days later, when the boys returned from school, Leif slid off the horse with a gunnysack in his hand. “Come see what we have.” A grin nearly split his face. He set the sack on the back porch and opened it. A plaintive meow announced the occupants. “Mrs. Benson said to keep them enclosed until they got used to us. They cried a lot on the ride home.” He reached in the sack and lifted out a fluffy gray half-grown cat with white paws. Signe gathered the frightened kitten close, gently murmuring and soothing it.

  “What does the other one look like?”

  “Mrs. Benson says she’s a yellow tabby, but she looks more gold or orange to me.” Leif lifted the other cat from the sack and the animal clamped both front feet around his arm. “Where will we keep them?”

  “Gerd says Einar does not like cats, so where might he not look?”

  Knute said, “They can climb out of a stall in the barn. They were real tame before we stuck them in the sack. Mrs. Benson said their mother trained them to hunt already. Maybe we should put them in the grain bin. There are always mice in there.”

  “But Einar might look in there,” Leif argued. “How about the harness room?”

  Knute turned toward the house. “I am starved.”

  “Your sandwich is on the counter.” Signe peeled the cat loose from her apron and handed it to Leif. “Let’s put them in the pantry for now and fill a saucer with milk. Food works for everybody.”

  Knute ran out the door to go help in the woods.

  “Leif, bring in more wood, please.”

  He stood tall and straight in front of her. “My name is not Leif. My name is Bring in Wood because that’s what you always call me.” He scampered off.

  Signe laughed and sat down at her churn. The firm, rhythmic sloosh sloosh sloosh comforted her. Where to put the kittens when Einar was home?

  If she were to ask Einar why he always had to have his way, of course he would reply, “It’s my house and I paid your way here.” But he was also blood kin and, in a large way, a host rather than a master. Give and take? They only gave, he only took. Always. The boys enjoyed the kittens, and so did Signe and, she’d bet, Gerd.

  Signe made a decision. Einar could give this time. They would not hide the kittens. The kittens were here because they were trained to do an important task—catch mice—and if they happened to be warm, cuddly, and cute, so be it.

  That night when the men came in from the woods, Gerd was sitting at the table. Leif smiled at her and nodded. “Glad you are here.”

  Gerd nodded, but her smile did not quite make itself visible. Signe could tell their tante was pleased, though. She set the pot of beans and rabbit on the table, returning from the oven with a pan of corn bread. All the while she watched Einar. All he did was nod to Gerd. He showed no care, no affection. A slow burn started in Signe’s middle.

  Rune smiled across the table at Gerd. “We are all glad you’re strong enough to join us.”

  Signe ladled supper onto plates and passed them around. As always, Einar fell to eating without waiting for any of the others to receive their food. He broke one piece of corn bread over the top of the beans and sliced another to butter.

  Signe shot a glare at him that would have curled anyone else’s hair, but as always, he shoveled in the food, ignoring everyone else. Catching Rune’s slight shake of the head, she made herself take a deep breath. Each of her family said thank you, as did Gerd. Signe kept her face from registering shock—at least she hoped she did. That alone was enough to make her sit down to eat with a lighter heart.

  Do not serve him anything until he asks politely. The thought made her smile to herself. That was the way she had trained her boys, but this was a grown man, grown mean.

  “Tante Gerd,” Leif asked, “can you read in English?”

  She shook her head. “But I can talk more in English.”

  “Could you maybe help us learn English?”

  Gerd stared at him, her brow wrinkling.

  Signe wanted to say something, but she kept quiet.

  Gerd nodded. “Maybe I can.” She looked at her husband. “Einar speaks better English than I do.”

  Einar finished his second helping, stuffed the last of his corn bread in his mouth, and pushed back from the table. Without a word, as usual, he headed out the door, letting it slam behind him.

  So much for that. Signe swallowed a sharp comment and said, “Would anyone like more beans? We have spice cake for dessert.” And perhaps we will eat it all up and not leave Onkel a single bite.

  Two days later, out in the woods, Rune again reminded Bjorn, “Stop chopping when your arm begins to get stiff or hurt. There are plenty of branches to pile.”

  Einar huffed and shot Rune a dirty look but headed for the last felled tree to cut off the branches. “Bjorn can finish the upper branches on this tree, and we will drag these last four trees over to the logs after dinner.”

  “Yes, sir.” Bjorn did not look at his far but began chopping immediately.

  Rune wagged his head. What was the Scripture verse? The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Still, he was proud of his son’s enthusiasm and strong work ethic. He hefted his axe to his shoulder and strode over to the last downed tree. Once into the rhythm, he worked his way up the trunk until Einar, who had already moved on, called him to the other end of the long saw at the next tree to be felled. He glanced over and saw Bjorn still swinging his axe. Step in and stop him, or let him learn from experience? Rune took up his end of the crosscut saw. A sore arm was a better lesson than a father’s constant reminders.

  Einar called for them all to step back as the tree trembled and crashed to its death. “We’ll eat dinner now.”

  Rune glanced up to see clouds hiding the face of the sun. It did not feel quite like noon yet, but this was as good a time to stop as any.

  “You water those horses yet?” Einar grunted at Bjorn, who was setting out the dinner basket.

  “No, sir, I was—”

  “You know those horses come first. Get that done before you eat.”

  “Yes, sir.” Bjorn stopped putting out the dinner and untied the horses instead.

  As they ate, Rune contemplated explaining to Einar the value of a little patience and thought better of it. Some days Einar was harder to please than others. It was just part of life.

  Einar stood. “We’ll drop that next tree and then drag the others. Bjorn, you get that tree done.”

  “Yes, sir.” Bjorn glanced at Rune with a slight headshake and went to do Einar’s bidding.

  “I told him to drag limbs when his arm started to hurt,” Rune said.

  “Lazy. He’s just getting out of work.”

  “Nei. He works as hard as a grown man. We want that arm to finish
healing, not be re-injured.”

  Einar hefted his axe and headed for the next marked tree. Rune picked up the saw and followed him. The man changed his mind like a weather vane.

  When the tree was notched, they set to sawing. When they paused for a breather, Rune saw that Bjorn was dragging branches. Good.

  After the tree fell, Einar hollered to Bjorn, “Get those horses over here and bring the chain so we can drag trees.”

  Bjorn dropped what he was doing and trotted over to the horses.

  Einar looked at the felled trees and screamed, “Boy! You lazy lout, you didn’t finish the limbs on this tree. Now we can’t drag it over. Lazy! Can’t even follow directions.” He ranted and yelled until Bjorn stumbled over the whiffletree dragging behind the horses. A tear trickled down his cheek.

  Rune laid his axe in the back of the wagon, then picked up Bjorn’s axe and did the same. He stepped to Bjorn’s side, spoke softly to him, and the two of them walked off, heading for the road to the barn.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Einar screamed after them.

  Rune kept on walking. “Come along, Bjorn.”

  “But . . . but what are we going to do?”

  “Start packing, if we must, but he will not treat you—or any of us—like dirt.”

  Chapter

  24

  Perhaps you did too much yesterday.”

  “Tired.”

  “I can tell.” Signe studied her patient. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “Nei, just sleep.”

  “I will bring you some soup later.”

  Gerd nodded without opening her eyes.

  Signe returned to the kitchen, where she had sourdough bread started, dishes to finish, a floor to scrub, and chicken stewing on the stove. When she finished the dishes, she used the same water to scrub the floor. As she scrubbed herself out onto the porch, she tossed the water along the porch and swept it down and off the steps. Back in the kitchen, she caught a flash of brown along the baseboard. Another mouse.

  Suddenly a gray bullet flashed by. The kitten slammed down upon the luckless mouse. Signe almost shouted for joy.