A Land to Call Home

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Well, it’s about closing time, anyhow.” He beckoned Hjelmer to his side.

  “Mange takk for inviting me.” Hjelmer ducked his head. “I come next week too.”

  “Don’t be hasty. Perhaps you better learn to play the game before you return. Makes things more interesting that a way.” The benevolent uncle had returned to everything but the man’s eyes. “Understand?”

  “Ahhh, and I was just beginnin’ to have a fine time.” Hjelmer shook his head. “You sure about that?”

  Red nodded. He signaled to the giants on either side of him, and as one, the three stood.

  Hjelmer stepped back so as not to get his feet trodden on. He ducked his head again as if being polite and left the tent. Once outside, he drew in a deep breath and let it out with a whoosh. One good thing, he’d signed his death warrant if he ever tried to play in this camp again. He jingled the coins in his pocket, now feeling heavy since there were considerably more than when he started out.

  Leif joined him in the darkness. Together they strode toward the bunkhouse. Visions of Penny lit the back of Hjelmer’s eyelids. What was she doing this night? Did she still remember that he said he loved her? And that she’d wait? He had broken his vow, but it turned out all right in the end. Surely that meant God didn’t count the vow as real.

  But to be safe, I won’t play again, he promised himself.

  Oh, hurry, Inge, please hurry.” Kaaren tried to stop the bleeding, but she had no more rags at hand without getting up from the bed. Moving terrified her. What if she bled to death before Ingeborg could get there? Why, oh why, had she insisted Metiz go home? She’d felt so much stronger, and with Lars coming in soon from the fields, she thought they could all sleep till he came. And Metiz had needed rest too.

  She heard feet thudding against the hard-packed dirt, and immediately the door flew open as if by a huge wind.

  “Inge, I’m so glad you’re here.” Kaaren tried to keep the tears from squeezing under her eyelids, but one was more determined than she. She dashed it away and tried to smile, but her lips quivered beyond her control.

  “What is it?” Ingeborg crossed the room, her hand to her breast, trying to catch her breath. At the same moment she saw the spreading stain on the sheet. “Oh, dear Lord above, help us now.” She turned at the door opening again. Thorliff stuck his head in.

  “Go for Metiz!”

  “Baptiste already did.”

  “Oh, please, Father,” Ingeborg murmured as she gathered the clean strips of cloth off the line between the stove and the wall. “Then get Lars,” she ordered Thorliff.

  At that moment the riverboat steam whistle shrieked across the land.

  Ingeborg sucked in a deep breath. “That must be Solveig. It is late in the day for the boat to come by. Lars will be coming in on the horse. You run down to the dock and tell them someone is coming.”

  “I could row out and get her.” Thorliff stood a little straighter, as if that might make him big enough to be trusted with the task.

  “You help Lars, all right?” She heard the door slam behind him. Packing the strips in place, she massaged Kaaren’s low belly. “Metiz said this sometimes helps.”

  Kaaren flinched and grasped her lower lip between her teeth.

  “Feel those cramps?”

  She nodded. “S-silly question.”

  “They’re good news. I know there is something I could brew, but I don’t remember what. Oh, Metiz, we need you. I should know so much more.”

  “H-how could you?”

  “I don’t know, but praying for wisdom, I am.” She kept up the rhythmic kneading, massaging deep till it seemed she could feel Kaaren’s backbone. While her hands kept busy, she pounded the ear of God with her pleas.

  She heard a horse galloping by and knew Lars had heard the whistle too. Dear Lord, send us Metiz soon. She checked the packing and breathed a sigh of relief. The flow seemed to be slowing. “Praise God, my dear sister, He led us to do right.”

  One of the tiny girls lying in the bed beside Kaaren whimpered. Ingeborg kept up her circular kneading motions and nodded toward the miniature bundles. “They are both nursing better now?”

  Kaaren nodded. “Twice since you left. Another thing to praise God for.” She took in a deep breath, feeling like the millstone that had been roosting on her chest had rolled away. “Oh, Inge, what would we ever do without you? Just the sight of you, so strong and capable, calms my fears.”

  “Ja, well, I do for you and you do for me. That’s what this life is all about. Just think, Solveig should be here soon. Then you needn’t fret about the things not getting done.”

  “How did you know that?”

  Ingeborg smiled down at her. “I know you.” She glanced around the soddy. The dinner dishes still sat in the dishpan. Metiz must have cooked the meal or one of the men did. “Did everyone eat here?”

  “Ja, and Haakan has Andrew out with him. We decided you needed to sleep.”

  “Me? What about you?”

  “That’s all I do is sleep.” She looked down at the slings by her side. “And feed babies.”

  “That’s about the best you can.”

  “I shouldn’t have sent Metiz home, but she was looking gray around the mouth. I forget sometimes that she is an old woman.” Kaaren’s eyes drifted closed and she slept again.

  A whisper of air moved behind Ingeborg, and she turned to find Metiz crossing the room.

  “Bad?”

  “Thought so there for a few minutes. What was in that tea you brewed?”

  “Brought more.” Metiz returned to the stove and, lifting the lid, stuck in several pieces of cut wood. “Need water to boil.”

  “I must have slept like the dead.” Ingeborg stretched, pushing her fists against the ache in her back from bending over the low bed. Even now her eyes felt gritty, as if someone had thrown sand in them.

  The wood caught fire and snapped in the silence. The window flamed like a square of fire as the setting sun painted red on the silver of the stove. Ingeborg lifted the lamp from the shelf above the wedding chest Kaaren had brought from home and set it on the table. After trimming the wick, she took a sliver of pitch wood and, lighting it in the stove, set the lamp to burning. Gold flickered and flared, then steadied when she set the chimney in place.

  “There, that’s better. I should get supper started. The men will be back in a moment. Did you hear the whistle? That means Solveig is finally here.” She knew she was chattering, but for some reason couldn’t seem to stop. “I’m going out to the cellar.” Pushing the door open, she stepped outside and breathed in deeply the chill fall air. With the coming of dusk, the wind kicked up, bringing with it a taste of frost. The way the temperature was dropping, she knew they’d wake to a silver morning.

  She hummed to herself as she lifted a haunch of smoked elk down in the smokehouse and filled her apron with carrots and onions from the cellar. She stopped. No, stew would take too long. She would cut off slabs of elk, fry onions and potatoes, and make biscuits. If only she hadn’t slept the afternoon away, she could have baked a cake or pie for dessert. No matter what, they would celebrate the arrival of the latest emigrant from Nordland. There would be letters from home, so they could catch up on all the news. Oh, it will be so wonderful. Solveig will know all the answers to her and Kaaren’s questions about home. Men never shared the bits of daily life that women did. At least Hjelmer hadn’t when he arrived.

  Returning to the house, she saw the horse and rider returning from the river. They must have left her trunks down at the river to be picked up with the wagon.

  The boys ran on ahead and caught her at the doorway.

  “She’s not here,” Thorliff panted.

  “Not here? Then what. . . ?”

  “Onkel Lars will tell you. Only a paper came. A . . . a telegram, Onkel said.”

  “What’s a telegram?” Baptiste asked, nudging his friend.

  “I read about it in a book. A message is sent over wire strung between poles by so
mething called Morse code. On some kind of machine they tap out the message made of dots and dashes.”

  Ingeborg caught the look of disbelief on Baptiste’s face.

  “He’s right.” She stepped forward as Lars galloped up.

  “It’s bad news, Ingeborg. Boys, go get Haakan and Andrew. Tell him to hurry so we only have to talk about this one time. You bring in the other horses and unharness them. We’ll tell you all about it later.” As he talked, he swung his leg over the horse’s withers and slid to the ground, handing the boys the reins. “Up you go.” He boosted them both on the broad back of the dark gelding and sent them on their way with a slap on the horse’s rump.

  “Come inside. Kaaren is frantic with worry, I can tell.”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” The babies started to cry at Kaaren’s agitation that made her try to sit up.

  “No! Lie still!” Metiz ordered. She removed the sling from around Kaaren’s shoulder and gently swung the babies until they settled down again. “You make worse.”

  “I’m sorry, but what is going on?” Kaaren’s hands fluttered like moths around a lamp.

  “It’s Solveig. She’s been in a train wreck. That is why she hasn’t gotten here yet.”

  “Is she . . . is she dead?”

  Lars shook his head. “Now lie back and I will read this to all of us. Haakan will be here in a moment, and I thought to wait for him.”

  “No, tell me now.” Kaaren shielded her eyes with the back of her hand.

  Lars moved closer to the lamp that flickered in the breeze from the open door.

  With Andrew on his shoulders, Haakan ducked through the door, setting the little boy down in one smooth motion.

  “Mor, horse go fast.” Andrew flung himself at his mother’s skirt, his grubby face one huge grin. “Far ride me.”

  “Ja, Mor’s good boy.”

  “Hungry.”

  Ingeborg listened out both sides of her head, both to Lars comforting Kaaren and to Andrew demanding her attention. She picked him up and handed him a slice of potato.

  “The captain brought this telegram from Fargo. Said it came in yesterday. It reads: ‘To Mrs. Lars Knutson, stop.’ ” He looked up. “They write that at the end of each sentence.” He returned to his reading, tipping the paper to get better light. “ ‘Solveig Hjelmson injured, train wreck. Stop. Can travel, needs assistance. Stop. Come immediately. Stop. Dr. Louis Amundson. Stop. Reply requested. Stop.’ ” Lars looked up from the square yellow paper. “That and the address is all we know.”

  “Thanks be to God, she is alive.” Ingeborg clasped Andrew to her until he began to squirm.

  “Hungry, Mor.” He patted her shoulder to get her attention.

  Kaaren’s lips moved in silent prayer. She sighed when she opened her eyes. “What will we do? Who will go?”

  “The captain said he’d pick up the one we send on his way back upriver in the morning.” Lars sank down on the nearest chair. Metiz continued to sway the sling, comforting the little ones. Haakan took Andrew from Ingeborg and set him on the box tied to a chair at the table.

  “Mor will have supper ready soon. You be good and wait.”

  At the tone of his voice, Andrew nodded solemnly.

  Ingeborg released all the air she’d been unconsciously holding and rubbed the back of her neck. “Supper will be ready in a few minutes.” Scooping bacon grease out of the crock on the warming shelf and dotting it in the cast-iron frying pan, she dumped in the chopped onions and sliced potatoes. If her hands kept busy, her mind could think better. Amid the clattering of pans and sizzling grease, she waited for someone to say something.

  “I stay, care for Kaaren.” Metiz broke the silence.

  “I can’t leave you and the babies.” Lars scrubbed his fingers through his dark hair, standing it on end. “But I can take care of the chores. Haakan, you could go.”

  “She will need a woman to help her.” Haakan turned to look at Ingeborg. “You know her.”

  Ingeborg nodded. “Since she was little.” She turned the slabs of elk meat over and shook the pan of potatoes. The screech of pan against stove made her shiver. Or was that the news about Solveig that really sent frissons of fear skittering up and down her back?

  “You must go, Ingeborg. We could ask Penny to come help Metiz and me. Haakan, you will go with?”

  He looked from Ingeborg to Lars and back again. “There is so much work to do. Could you go by yourself?”

  Ingeborg swallowed hard. Taking the boat to Grand Forks wasn’t a problem. She’d done that before. She could board the train there for St. Paul. But all alone? Changing trains and finding the hospital? How much help did Solveig need? How badly was she hurt? Remembering the terror of being lost in New York made her hands shake as she set plates and silverware on the table. Could she read English well enough to read street signs now? To tell a buggy driver where to go?

  Haakan took the long knife from her clenched hand and set about slicing the bread. “I will eat quickly so I can help the boys with the chores.”

  “Maybe Solveig will need someone stronger if she cannot walk.” Ingeborg kept her voice low, for Haakan’s ears alone.

  “Ja, I thought of that too.” His chest swelled with the breath he took in. “If it would make you and Kaaren feel easier, I will go with you. The barn will just have to wait.”

  “And if the snow comes?”

  “Then we will build on the good days. It will all work out, Inge, but the most important part is keeping Kaaren calm and the babies alive. If my staying here would make that more possible . . .” He shrugged. “I just don’t know.”

  Lars left Kaaren’s bedside and came to join them. “I will send Thorliff over to the Baards’ first light. He can bring Penny back, and knowing Agnes, she will be here as soon as she can hitch up the wagon.”

  “But she shouldn’t be driving the wagon now.” Visions of Agnes’s feet swelling out over the moccasins Metiz had made for her when her shoes became too tight made Ingeborg shake her head. “Nei, she must stay home and take care of herself. Perhaps Petar could come to help with the field work for a few days.”

  Lars nodded. “Ja, he will. You know Joseph. He will have the whole neighborhood here, putting up the barn, adding the lean-to on your house, and sending the others out into the field to break sod.” Lars shook his head. “You know Baard.”

  “Come talk over here so I can hear too.” Kaaren’s voice held a note of command that was unusual for her.

  Ingeborg turned from checking the potatoes and saw Metiz laying one of the twins at her mother’s breast. The other whimpered, mewling like a week-old kitten. How would Kaaren ever have enough milk for the two of them?

  The discussion continued around the table, but Ingeborg could tell it was all decided. She and Haakan would be rowing out to catch the boat in the morning.

  Haakan left, and in a few minutes the boys came in, each carrying a full bucket of milk.

  “You want we should put these in the springhouse?”

  “No, set them there out of the way and come and eat.” Ingeborg cleared Haakan’s plate away and set two for the boys. “Go wash first.”

  “How much more is to be done?” Lars asked as the boys slid into their chairs.

  “Far went to milk at our house. We fed all the rest of the animals, let the horses and oxen out in the center field to graze. The horses weren’t hot or nothing.”

  “Forgot the eggs.” Baptiste paused in lifting a forkful of meat to his mouth. He started to rise. “I go do that.”

  “After you eat.” Ingeborg laid a hand on his arm. “You boys have done a fine job. Mange takk.”

  After the kitchen was cleaned up and dishes all put away, Ingeborg turned to Metiz. “I will stay. You go home and sleep.”

  “I sleep here.” Metiz pointed to a pallet she’d arranged on the floor.

  “No. You sleep in the other bed, and I will take the floor.” Lars looked up from smoothing back the hair from Kaaren’s forehead.

 
; Metiz shook her head.

  Ingeborg hid a smile behind her hand. None of them had ever succeeded in getting Metiz to do something she was set against. She just acted as if she didn’t hear you, like now as she lay down facing the wall and pulling the cover over her shoulder.

  “Inge!”

  “Don’t look at me.” She raised her hands in the air, palms upward. “I’m going home to bed.” She picked up Andrew, who had curled up on an old coat in his special place behind the stove and was sound asleep. With him nestled into her shoulder, she turned back. “You call me if there is any problem.”

  Kaaren nodded. “Mange takk, so many times over.” She waved one hand. “Thank you again for my life.” Her voice choked on the last word.

  Ingeborg strode along the grooves cut into the sod by the many passes of teams, wagons, and machinery. Soon they’d have to string the rope between the houses again, this time before a blizzard caught them. As Haakan said, there was so much to do.

  The cold moonlight glimmered on the dew frosting the stacks of lumber set back from the barn. Paws greeted her, tail wagging and tongue lolling. Lamplight spilled from the window, losing the battle with the bright moon for a square of the earth. Ingeborg shivered, and while it was cold, she knew it wasn’t from that.

  “What will tomorrow bring, dear Lord?” She raised her gaze to the heavens, the blackness stapled in place by the myriad of stars. “Take care of Solveig and Kaaren and the babes. Father, I leave them in your hands, for mine are far too small and weak. You are God, and I thank you.” She sniffed. Must be the cold that made her nose run.

  As soon as she put Andrew to bed, she got down on her knees and dug way back under the bed for the carpetbag they had brought from Norway. She dusted it off and removed the carded wool all ready for spinning she’d stuffed inside. One more thing to do as soon as she could no longer work in the fields. She stroked the fine strands saved from the prime pelt of the merino sheep she’d paid such a high price for. This wool felt like the inner down of the goose compared to the wool from the other sheep. Her lambs, while crossbred, were showing the same length of strand. One of them, the male, she would keep for breeding.