A Land to Call Home

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Me hungry.” Andrew planted himself in front of her.

  “I know. How about some bread and jam? Supper won’t be for a while yet.”

  “Chores first.” He sounded just like his father.

  “Yup. You want milk too?”

  He nodded.

  “Go ask Thorliff to bring in a jug then.”

  Andrew scampered to the door, but when he unlatched it, the wind blew it out of his hands and knocked him back on his posterior. Instead of crying, he scowled. “No! Bad door.” He hoisted himself to his feet again, rump first, and pushed against the screen door. “Open door!”

  Lars looked up just then from studying his coffee mug and smiled at Penny. “He sure has got the ordering part down right. Pretty soon he’ll be telling all of us what to do.”

  A chuckle rippled around the table as Lars rose and opened the door for the determined youngster. “Where you going, little man?”

  “Tor get milk.” He leaned against the wind that now only blew cold and damp, not drenching.

  They could hear him calling, since Lars kept the door open to watch the child. “He don’t let much get to him, does he?”

  Kaaren shook her head. “One thing for sure, he don’t take after his father. He’s more like his onkel Carl.” She let Penny take Sophie and put her against her shoulder, patting the tiny back to produce a burp. Grace nursed on after being awakened again by all the shifting around.

  “So . . . what do you think?” Joseph asked, half turning so he spoke more to Lars.

  “I think Haakan should be home tomorrow, at the earliest.” He held the door open for Andrew, followed by Thorliff and Baptiste.

  “ ’Lo, Mr. Baard.” Thorliff set the jug of milk on the table, then he turned to look Baard in the face. “You need any more barn cats over your way? We got extras.”

  “They good mousers?”

  Thorliff shrugged. “Will be when they quit growing.”

  “I heard Hanson, west of me, needs some. Coyote got his mother cat and the whole litter.”

  “Good. I’ll bring a couple in a gunnysack next time we have church.” Thorliff reached for the bread but backed off at the look on Penny’s face and nodded Baptiste over to the washbasin.

  “So, it’s settled then?” Joseph held out his coffee cup when Lars raised the pot in the age-old question.

  “Do we have any choice?”

  “Choice for what?” Thorliff brushed a drop of water off his face with the back of his sleeve.

  “Oh, our neighbors think we need help raising that barn since we’ve had a couple of slowdowns this season.”

  “Oh, great jumpin’ frogs! When?”

  Penny smiled at Thorliff’s latest phrase. While her brothers could tease with the best of them, Thorliff was the one to play with words. The meaning was clear—there’d be no nay vote from him.

  “What will Pa say?”

  “Mange takk would be about the best.”

  Thorliff grinned at his uncle. “Thank you very much, too, huh?”

  Joseph nodded and slapped his hands on the table as he got to his feet. “I’ll be seeing you, then, near to sunrise day after tomorrow. Agnes said she was coming if she had to lie in the back of the wagon, so you’ll have company too.” He dipped his head to Kaaren. “You take good care of them young’uns now. I’ll tell Agnes you’re looking a mite peaked yet but doing well as can be expected.”

  “Thank you, kind sir. Maybe I can keep her in here helping me, and we’ll let the other women take care of the food. Just think, maybe we can have a barn dance when it is finished.”

  “Sounds mighty fine.” He removed his hat from the peg. “Got the roof to put on the school, too, before a week from Sunday. I heard we got a travelin’ preacher coming by.”

  Penny followed him out the door after the good-byes were said. “You sure you don’t want me to come home with you?”

  “No, they need you here worse’n we do. You’re a good girl, Penny. If’n you see Metiz, you might send her over our way, though.”

  She watched him walk off to the barn in that loose-jointed way he had. You could always tell it was Joseph coming long before you saw his face, just by the way he walked. If Aunt Agnes wanted to see Metiz, she must be a mite worried herself. Penny shook her head. How could she be in two places at once?

  “Now, is there anything else that you need?” Ingeborg turned to Solveig, who had just settled onto a bench outside the dry goods store in Grand Forks. At the flat look in Solveig’s eyes, Ingeborg wished she could rephrase her question. She had heard Solveig groaning in the night whenever she tried to move in the bed. Not only was the leg so cumbersome with all its wrappings, but there must still be a lot of pain. But the young woman didn’t complain; she just didn’t say anything. Which was better—the anger earlier or the sullen silence now?

  She watched Haakan stride down the raised boardwalk that joined store to store. He’d been up at the machinery sales lots, right where she had wanted to be. He and Lars had been talking about a steam engine for running the dreamed-of lumber mill in the winter and the threshing machine in the summer. When she thought of either taking out another loan or spending the funds she had hoarded in the bank, she could feel her stomach begin to flip-flop. Ja, they had a good harvest, so there was a bit of extra cash beyond paying back on their loans. But they would have to buy hay before spring, since theirs burned, or else sell off part of the stock.

  She rubbed her belly. The thought of the boat ride on the river made her even more queasy. She closed her eyes and thought of Psalm 91. Surely they were being cared for under the pinions of God’s wings. The Scriptures said so. As close as they were now to proving up the homesteads, nothing could be allowed to endanger that. If they had to go without new machinery, so be it.

  “Are you all right?” Haakan stopped at her side, the words meant for her ears alone.

  Ingeborg left off rubbing her waistline as if seared by a brand from the kitchen stove. “I . . . I . . . ja.” She bobbed her head and tried to smile.

  “You’re worrying.”

  She made a negative face, but when she looked in his eyes, she could tell. He knew her too well.

  “I did not buy anything.”

  Even though she tried not to react, she could feel her shoulders drop in relief.

  “I just checked the prices and talked with the salesman. They don’t have what we are thinking of here. It would have to come from Chicago. I wouldn’t buy it without having either Joseph or Lars along, or both. Lars knows more what a threshing machine needs than I do.”

  “Will the same engine work for both?” She kept her hands at her side, despite the urge to clutch her middle.

  “The salesman said it would. Could be used to turn a millstone, too, if’n we had one. If we ground our own wheat and oats, we could save money there, besides doing it for the others in our region. Would bring in either barter or cash.”

  He unfolded the newspaper he’d bought and began reading.

  Ingeborg glanced at the headlines. “Strikes Flare in Chicago.” She wished she could read English better, but talking it was hard enough. “What all does it say?” she asked softly, glancing at Solveig, who was sitting with eyes closed and her head nodding.

  Haakan turned to her with a smile. “You sure you want to know?” At her nod, he began to read her an article about the campaign of Grover Cleveland. “He’s running against James G. Blaine for president of the United States. Once Dakota becomes a state, then I will be able to vote in elections.”

  “What about the women voting?”

  The look he gave her left no doubt in her mind what his thoughts on that subject were. “What else is happening?”

  “There’s lots of talk about statehood for the territory, but even more about splitting it in two. There would be North and South Dakota that way.” He pointed to the articles on the second page. “Down in Spink county, way south of Fargo, they’re having a fight about where to put the county seat. The courthouse is out
in the country now in a place called Old Ashton, but the town of Redfield figures they should have it.”

  “Uff da, such a thing to be bothered about.”

  “Means lots of money for the town that is the county seat.” He read to himself for a bit. “Says here that men are being killed in strikes across the country, but right now Chicago is especially bad.” He shook his head.

  “Why are they striking?”

  “The article says unions are trying to come in so that the workers get better pay and working conditions. This man they quoted says all the money goes to the owners of the mills and not enough to the workers.”

  Ingeborg had heard of such things before, which made her even more grateful for their land and that no one could tell them what to do.

  “How soon until we board the boat?” Solveig asked.

  The question startled Ingeborg. She’d almost forgotten Solveig was still there, she’d been so silent.

  Haakan glanced up at the sun playing hide-and-seek with the clouds. “Soon. Where are your packages?”

  Ingeborg nodded to the bundles on the bench beside Solveig.

  “Is that all?”

  Ingeborg felt like hugging him right here in the middle of Grand Forks, right out in public. She knew Solveig had been fretting about the amount they were spending, but a warm coat and boots were absolutely necessary with winter coming on. They had also bought cotton yardage for underthings, besides a dress for church and one to work in. Trying to figure when they would have time to sew these things, along with the fall butchering, making soap . . . if she continued the thoughts, she knew they would show on her face. And on top of all that, she hadn’t been hunting for weeks. They needed elk and venison unless they were to butcher one of the steers she planned to train for an ox team to sell in the spring.

  Haakan picked up the bundles that didn’t fit in their carpetbag, handed Ingeborg a couple of the lighter ones, and nodded toward the dock at the river. “Let’s be going then.”

  Once they had Solveig settled on a bench on the lee side of the paddle boat, Haakan wandered over to the railing to talk with two men who leaned there, their cigars sending a curl of smoke into the air.

  “Why don’t you turn and lean against that wall and put your leg up on the bench here? There aren’t enough passengers for the boat to be crowded.” Ingeborg shuffled the packages around, placing some under the seat. One that contained the dress goods, she held to use as a pillow behind Solveig’s back.

  “I don’t want to make a fuss,” Solveig hissed between clenched teeth. The white ring around her mouth told Ingeborg the pain was bad.

  “This is no fuss.” With swift but gentle movements, Ingeborg soon had her reluctant patient more comfortable by tucking the wrapped package of cloth behind her back and propping her leg on the bench. “When we get home, Metiz has some remedies that will help take the pain away and make your leg heal better.”

  “Metiz?”

  “Ja, she is a friend of mine—ours, I mean. She has taught us much about living on the prairie and using the things that grow and live there.”

  “That is a strange name.” For a change a flicker of interest lit Solveig’s eyes.

  “Ja, it is.” Doesn’t she know of Metiz? Kaaren has written of the old woman, I know she has. Do only the old folks listen to our letters? Ingeborg watched the men in conversation, wishing she were there to hear what they had to say. Neither of them looked familiar. Perhaps they were from Canada.

  When Haakan returned and joined her out of the wind, he wore a smile like Andrew’s when he accomplished something new.

  “Ja?” She knew it wasn’t a woman’s place to question men’s talk, but at that point she didn’t care. What had switched Haakan into such good spirits?

  “They are from Chicago, selling machinery farther north.”

  She nodded, wanting to poke him to get the news out sooner.

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose and nodded, at the same time leaning against the forecastle housing. He nodded again, this time pursing his lips and staring off at the Minnesota shoreline.

  “Ja?” Ingeborg could have bet her petticoat he wasn’t seeing the trees but visions of new machinery instead.

  “Oh, not much.” He chewed on his bottom lip off to the right side and nodded again.

  Ingeborg felt like jumping in the middle of his chest and flailing him about the head and shoulders. Was he teasing? She caught a glint in his eye. “Haakan Howard Bjorklund, if you know what’s good for you . . .”

  He burst out laughing, bringing Solveig out from a doze and frightening a sparrow that had perched on the rail hoping for crumbs.

  “Ah, Ingeborg, you should see your face. If looks could kill, I’d have drowned minutes ago.” He turned to face her. “They know of a steam engine for us. Halverson, the one in the round black hat, said this engine has enough horsepower to do any of the things we want, and he’ll even include the wheels to make moving it easier. I had thought we’d move it on skids, but this will be better. He said they have traction engines coming soon, if we should want to wait a year or so.” He shook his head slowly while speaking. “But we don’t want to wait.”

  “Traction engine?”

  “It moves by itself. Can you believe that?”

  “By itself?” Come on, Ingeborg ordered herself. You sound as if you never heard of steam engines before, as if you’re maybe hard of hearing too. She cleared her throat. “You mean without teams of horses or oxen the thing just pulls itself across the prairie?”

  “Ja. Halverson said this flatland was the best for the new machinery. He said pretty soon they would be pulling plows and all with steam engines on wheels.” He stopped and stared into her eyes. “Can you think of that?”

  Before she could answer, he added, “Ja, they probably have them on the Bonanza farms down by Fargo already.”

  Ingeborg tried to remember the name of the man Roald and Carl had spent so much time with on the train coming to Dakota Territory. He most likely had the latest machinery on his farm. She knew the Bonanza farm across the river from St. Andrew, where they delivered their cheeses and eggs and such, still depended on horses and mules.

  “What is this world coming to?” Now she couldn’t focus on the nearly leafless trees.

  “Wait till Joseph and Lars hear about this.” He stared at her through squinted eyes. “I could get off at our landing and then drive the wagon to St. Andrew for you and Solveig. We can’t get her off the boat without a dock, since with her leg and all she can’t climb down the ladder.”

  Ingeborg felt her stomach bounce down about her knees. If she let herself think about another few hours on the boat, she had to swallow more than once. Why hadn’t she thought of that? This way they wouldn’t get home until long after dark.

  She kept her head straight, even though it wanted to droop like a pouting child. Solveig didn’t need to know their dilemma. It might make her feel even worse. What about the babies? Who was helping Kaaren? Maybe Haakan should continue on the boat and Lars could take the wagon up. But Solveig needed a woman with her. “Ja, that would be for the best. I will tell her.”

  The whistle shrieked above them, causing them all to flinch. Sitting this close the blast hurt their ears. How did the crew stand it all the time?

  Ingeborg sat back down on the bench at the end of Solveig’s foot. “We are nearly home, but you and I will stay on the paddle-wheeler to St. Andrew where it will be easier to get off.”

  “Oh.”

  Ingeborg looked up at Haakan who had come to stand by her shoulder. “Please ask Metiz to send some of her medicinals along so Solveig can ride in the wagon easier. And lots of quilts and elk robes for padding.”

  Haakan nodded. “I will.” He looked down at Solveig. “Would you like to come around the wheelhouse so you can see where our land is? Not much but riverbank to see, but . . .”

  Solveig shook her head, leaned back, and closed her eyes again. A white line circled her lips, and her jaw remained bon
e hard, nearly visible through the pale skin. Cords stood out in her neck.

  The pain must be terrible, Ingeborg thought. How can I help her? Oh, Lord, how can I help? “I’ll be right back.” She followed Haakan around to the starboard side and looked downriver to their landing where the raft was tied to a cottonwood tree. While she watched, Thorliff and Baptiste burst out of the trees, each waving with one hand as they untied the bobbing raft with the other. Baptiste shoved the raft away, and Thorliff dug in with the long pole to maneuver the cumbersome thing out to the paddle boat.

  The captain tooted the whistle again, gently this time.

  “I will meet you in St. Andrew then. Since you’ll get there before I do, take Solveig to the hotel. Those chairs in the parlor will be more comfortable than the benches on the dock.”

  “Ja, I will.” Ingeborg leaned over the railing to wave at Thorliff. “You did a fine job.”

  The raft bumped against the boat. One of the crew threw the end of the rope ladder over the side and opened the railing for Haakan to climb down.

  “I will see you soon.” His eyes matched the sky arched above them with twinkles like fireflies in the dusk.

  “Mor, wait till you get home!” Thorliff fairly danced on the bobbing raft.

  “Are the twins all right?”

  “Ja, and Tante Kaaren too. Penny made Andrew take a nap. He weren’t none too happy ‘bout that. He’s missing . . .” Thorliff clapped a hand over his mouth.

  Haakan landed on the raft, ruffled Thorliff’s hair, and took over the poling. They both waved when the whistle tooted again and the paddle-wheel resumed its slush-and-slap song.

  Ingeborg waved back, wondering at the boy’s obvious excitement. What was going on at the Bjorklund farms now?

  Ingeborg collapsed in a velvet chair in the St. Andrew Hotel next to Solveig.

  “I am sorry to be such trouble,” Solveig said with her eyes closed.

  “It can’t be helped, and it is not your fault. God will work all this out, you’ll . . .”

  “God?” The derision contained in that one word stopped Ingeborg midblink.