Haakan picked up a handful of the white stuff and formed a ball. It caught Thorliff full in the chest. With a shout, he scooped, formed, and threw. Snowballs pelted through the air, shrieks and shouts of “no fair,” “got you,” and “get Haakan” rang along with the snowballs.
Ingeborg made her way around the fringes of the fight, her own snowball formed solid in her mittened hands. “Haakan,” she called when within range. Turning, he caught a faceful. The fight waged until all were panting and the boys dropped down in the snow.
Penny loped back after talking with Kaaren and Solveig, and Haakan lifted Andrew from the horse’s shoulders to his own. “Looks like you had a free-for-all here,” Penny said with a laugh.
Ingeborg shook the snow off her head. “I think I got the worst of it.” She brushed white globs off her coat and skirt. “And to think I only planned on cooking and baking today.”
“Mor, could you make snow candy?” Thorliff sat upright in his snow bed.
“Why not?” Ingeborg turned back to Penny. “You want to stay for dinner?”
Penny shook her head and turned her horse away. “I have to ride over to the others so Tante Agnes knows how many are coming. Then I plan to do the baking so she can rest again. You know her, sitting still is hard and lying down even worse. She’s knit two baby blankets and a pair of long socks in the last two days.”
Ingeborg waved again as the horse galloped off, its breath a steam cloud in the nippy air.
When sometime later she called Thorliff to bring a pan of packed snow, he hurried to do her bidding. The sugar and butter cooked to a thread spun fanciful designs of loops and curls in the snow-packed pan. Minutes later they all scooped out brittle caramel-colored pieces that disappeared in their mouths fast as a snowflake melting on the tongue.
Ingeborg spent the rest of the day cooking and baking as if she were feeding a threshing crew.
When she woke in the morning feeling as though her stomach wanted to bring up her toes, she knew for sure. She was pregnant again. Now she would have a daughter, or Haakan would have a son of his own. The dream made her smile to herself. When would she tell him? Would he be as happy as she was? She laid her hand on her belly, blessing the child growing within. “Thank you, Father, for your tender mercies.” The thank-yous flowed through her mind while she cooked breakfast.
After they ate, she cleaned up the kitchen, set beans to baking, and reminded Thorliff he needed to make sure the fire burned hot enough to cook them for supper. Then she went to gather the pieces of material she’d been saving for a quilt: the back of a dress Andrew had both outgrown and worn beyond mending again, remnants from sewing the red-and-white checked curtains and tablecloth, a small stack of pieces she’d traded with someone else, wool from the worn coat of Haakan’s she had ripped apart and used for Thorliff’s jacket. She dug farther in the trunk, pushing aside the pieces of soft deerskin and several rabbit pelts she planned to use for a hood and mittens for Andrew. Finally she reached the dress goods she’d saved to work on during the long winter days. Since one was cut out, she took the leftover pieces. These she could trade too.
With her quilting materials in a basket, she wrapped up a loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese, then sugared the pancakes left from breakfast, rolling them in tubes, and added a jar of jam. All this would contribute to the noon meal for the ladies. With baskets in hand, Ingeborg headed for the barn to harness the horses. Kaaren and Solveig would ride in the wagon bed, well-padded with straw, quilts, and hides.
“Whoa.” Haakan pulled back on the reins of the harnessed team, now pulling the wagon bed mounted on the heavy carved runners they used in the winter. Metal strips nailed to the runners squeaked in the snow.
“Oh, how nice.” Ingeborg set her baskets in a corner of the wagon bed. Andrew crowed at her from the board seat beside his father. She shook her head, smiling up at Haakan and feeling a rush of tears behind her eyes. She swallowed, her smile wobbling. “You are the kindest, most thoughtful man I have ever known.”
“All I did was . . .” Haakan stepped to the snowy ground and, with the tip of his finger, removed the drop that wavered on her eyelashes. He smiled, a slow widening of his lips that dented the curve of his cheek and filled his eyes. A smile of love meant just for her.
She would have to tell him soon.
He helped her up to the seat and placed the reins in her hands. “I’ll see you before dark?”
She nodded, her throat too full to speak.
“Bye, Far. Bye cows, bye horses, bye Paws.” Snugged against her side, Andrew kept up the singsong all the way to Kaaren’s, laughing between each name.
Kaaren and Solveig came out of the soddy, each looking about to have a baby. They wore slings with a twin in each and coats buttoned over the precious bundles.
When Ingeborg made a laughing comment, Kaaren answered, “This is the only way I could be sure of keeping them warm enough. I probably should stay home, but, oh, I want to see a new face and hear all the news. They’ll be all right, don’t you think?”
Ingeborg looked up at the sunny sky. “No storms far as I can see, and we’ll be home by dusk. It’ll be noisy there with all the little ones, but you know everyone wants to see the twins and you.”
“They are growing so fast no one will recognize them in a month.” Kaaren set her basket in the sleigh bed and sat down on the open end. She turned and swung her legs up, inching her way to the mound of covers. “You can do that, can’t you, Solveig?”
Solveig did the same, a grimace crossing her face when she banged her bad leg against the side. But she quickly joined Kaaren in building a cozy nest around them.
“Geeyup!” Andrew bounced on the sleigh seat. He shouted the word again, and when Ingeborg clucked the horses forward, he shrieked in delight. “Faster, Mor, faster.”
“He’s a real speed hound, isn’t he?”
“Like most boys.” Ingeborg clucked the horses into a trot. The bells Olaf had fastened on the harness jangled even more at the quicker pace that ate up the distance to the Baards’.
One by one the wagons and horses arrived, bringing women who laughed in delight at having this time together. Over and over they thanked Agnes for inviting them. They cooed over the now sleeping twins, greeted Solveig with ready smiles when Kaaren introduced her sister, and right away set to piecing the new quilt. They were all careful to not stare at the scar on Solveig’s face, having been coached by Penny when she invited them all.
“Where’s Mrs. Booth?” asked one of the women of Penny.
“Her husband said she didn’t feel up to coming,” Penny answered, a frown crossing her brow. “I got the feeling things are worse than we thought out there.”
“They ain’t been to church, either, since I don’t remember when.”
“She had some trouble last year, remember? She turned quiet during the winter. Seemed to be off somewhere else, lessen you touched her arm or some such to get her attention.”
Agnes nodded. “I remember. Maybe we can meet at her house next time, bring all the food and such. That might perk her up some.”
“Oh, I had planned to go get her,” Ingeborg said. “Why didn’t I do that? Poor woman.”
“We have to convince her we need her with us.” Agnes motioned everyone to take their chairs. “Shame they have no children. The dark don’t seem so bad with the noise and work of little ones underfoot all the time.” She glanced toward the four playing in the corner and two others on the bed. “And then you can’t hear the wind so either.” A shriek came from the corner, followed by Andrew’s chuckle.
“Ja, you are right there.” Kaaren put one of the twins to her shoulder.
“It’s the wind that gets to me,” Hildegunn Valders said with a shiver that set her second chin to quivering. “That and the dark of the soddy. My Anner, he brought home some lime and we whitewashed the inside walls. Took some doing with the rough sod and all, but sure does make a difference. Them walls don’t soak up all the lamplight anymore, and it
looks so nice too.” By the time she finished, her pointed nose seemed to be a bit higher in the air. She glanced at the dark walls around her and sniffed just a bit.
“What a good idea.” Ingeborg felt the shiver run up her back, too, at the memory of former winters. She looked to Kaaren. “I’ll bring some back from St. Andrew when I go to the Bonanza farm in the next day or so.”
“Ja, if the weather holds. You’d best be careful.” The circle of women, some in chairs, others sitting on stools or the edge of the bed, added their bits.
Needles kept time as the conversation ranged from how fast the children were growing to emphatic opinions on not hiring the Reverend Hostetler. Hildegunn sniffed again when her choice of a man of God was denigrated. Then Kaaren was asked when she would feel up to starting the school.
“I hope next week. Lars said the Johnsons donated a stove, and he and Haakan will hang the door and set in the windows before Sunday.”
“Where is Mary?” Hildegunn asked immediately.
“She and the mister were going to Grafton today, early, so she couldn’t come. She was real disappointed,” Penny responded.
Kaaren glanced over at Solveig, who, though sitting just outside the circle as if she didn’t belong, feasted on every word and laugh.
“We doing our service like usual then?”
“Ja, that seems best for now.” Kaaren nipped her thread with her teeth, to the tisking of the woman next to her.
“You think you can manage the babies and all our children too?” Slender to the point of her clothes hanging on her frame, Dyrfinna Odell asked the question. Four babies in three years sometimes did that to a woman.
“Solveig will come with me to watch them while I teach. Then she will help the children with their lessons while I feed my two hungry sparrows.” Kaaren hid her concern behind a smiling face. She hoped this would meet with everyone’s approval. “I know this isn’t the most perfect way, but . . .”
“But we all appreciate you being willing to take on such a big job.” Ingeborg looked around the circle for heads nodding in agreement. “Might not do it like this in Nordland, but here in Dakota Territory we make do with what we got. And we got a fine teacher here, thank the Lord. If you ain’t been doing any better than me at schooling your youngsters, Kaaren’s got a whale of a lot of catching up to do.”
Chuckles met her sally. Fitting in time to help their children with the three R’s was hard for everyone. There was always just too much to do.
“Schoolteachers are supposed to be paid, but we got no cash money or nothing to pay you with,” Hildegunn said, a bit of a bulldog note in her voice. The two starched women on either side of her nodded.
“Lessen you’ll take a stewing chicken or some such.” These first words from the mouth of Brynja Magron on the left brought a look from Hildegunn. Brynja melted back into her chair and stitched faster.
“As if they need such a thing,” Hildegunn hissed.
“I know you can’t pay,” Kaaren answered, her voice gentle. “I don’t expect anything. I want to teach, and your children need a teacher. As Ingeborg said, we make do with what we got out here.”
More nods and a few “mange takks” answered her.
Ingeborg watched the women’s faces. Across the circle, Hildegunn said nothing more, but her eyes flashed her thoughts. She was not about to be happy with this arrangement.
The bits and pieces of cloth turned into bright jewels of the wedding ring pattern as the women’s needles kept time with their visiting. Penny took the little children out to play in the barn after dinner and before their naps.
“This quilt should be for her,” Agnes whispered when Penny was out the door. “Don’t you think?”
“Ja, if that Hjelmer ever shows his face here again.”
“It ain’t just him, mind you.” Agnes threaded her needle in the light from the lamps. “Mr. Clauson—the farmer south of here who lost his wife last winter—has been sniffing around. He would have made his intentions known months ago if Penny had given him any encouragement. He’d make her a fine husband.”
“Ja, and he is here.”
“Handsome too.”
Chuckles met that comment.
With the children bedded down and everyone’s coffee cup refilled, the stitching and visiting continued. One would be hard pressed to say which flew faster, the needles or the tongues. When they finally began folding things away and waking the children to go home, they promised to meet at the Booths’ house next and before Christmas.
“Or we could go to the schoolhouse in case there are more who would like to come. Just like we used to meet at the Stavekirke at home.”
“Not much comparison between the Stavekirke and our schoolhouse-church combination.” Head shaking and chuckles met that comment.
“But one day we will have a church, too, right by the cemetery” Agnes leaned back in her chair with a sigh. “And even confirmation for the older ones.”
“We need a pastor for that.”
“Ja, he will come when God thinks we are ready for one,” Agnes said.
Ingeborg was the last one to go out the door. “You take care of yourself, now, you hear?”
“Now, if that ain’t the kettle calling the pot black.” Agnes patted her friend’s arm. She glanced over at Penny, who was buttoning Andrew’s coat. “That one, she don’t let me lift a finger.”
Penny snorted.
“You think you could come help Kaaren tomorrow or the next day? If the weather holds, I need to make a last run to the Bonanza farm. I’d like Solveig to come with me.”
“Sure she can,” Agnes answered right quick, in case Penny tried to say no.
After the final good-byes, Ingeborg turned the sleigh toward home, thanking God for such a time as they’d shared. An idea popped into her head halfway home. They would have a barn dance in the next week or so at the first wood-framed barn in the area. She hoped Haakan would agree. She felt another surge of queasy stomach with the rocking of the sleigh on the way home. Tonight she’d better tell Haakan their wonderful news before he caught her throwing up and figured it out for himself.
“When?” he asked after stifling a shout of joy and hugging her hard. He’d propped himself up on one elbow so he could look down into her face. The bed creaked and rustled as he shifted his weight.
“Somewhere late in the spring or the beginning of summer.” She paused, loving the intense look she saw in his eyes. “If all goes well.” Her thoughts had swung to the baby they so recently buried.
Haakan nodded. “Agnes is doing better now?”
“Ja.” How did you know what I was thinking? She kept the thought inside. So often he knew, just as she did with him. She reached up and stroked her fingertips down the side of his face. “You are pleased?”
“Oh, Inge, you have no idea.” He quivered under her loving fingers.
“Ja, I do.” She lifted her head to meet his lips. “This baby is a prayer answered for me too.”
The weather held still and cold so the snow stayed on the ground, but not so cold so as to be confining. The men finished off the roof of the soddy addition, cut a doorway through the sod wall to the main house, and built two sets of bunk beds along the walls. Olaf immediately began working on cupboards with real doors that closed for the third wall and nailed a board of pegs along the other. Shelves fit below that.
“I’ll make a cupboard for your kitchen this winter,” he promised Ingeborg. “You need more storage places that the mice can’t get into.”
“You do such fine work, I can’t imagine how we ever got along without you.” She fingered the leather hinges he’d attached to the doors.
“One day I’ll get time to pound out some iron ones, but these will do for now.”
“You want I should buy you some in St. Andrew?”
He shook his head. “No sense spending money for that. I can make them just as well.”
That afternoon Ingeborg took the three mattress tickings she had sewn out to the s
traw stack and, burrowing under the wet, pulled out dry straw and stuffed it into the mattresses. One day, she promised herself, we will all have feather beds to sleep on.
They had the sleigh loaded long before dawn lightened the sky. To the north the aurora borealis danced on the horizon and far into the heavens. Their breath made steam clouds in front of them.
“I could go, you know.” Haakan swung one of the smoked haunches into the straw-lined bed.
“I know, but I can do this, and that will leave you free to work on the barn or your workshop. Think how it will feel to move the milk cows into that bright building. Line them all up at once instead of them taking turns.” She eyed the stack of cheese rounds. “With that many cows, we sure have been able to turn out the cheese and butter. You know, if we had some goats, I could make gammelost.”
Haakan’s laugh exploded on the frigid air. “And if you had herring, you could make sur sild. Inge, will you never quit?”
“Not as long as something can bring in money to pay off the land and our bills. Just think, only a few more months and the homestead will be proved up. The sooner I can pay off the note on the half section Roald bought, the sooner we can buy more.”
“And a steam engine for the lumber mill.”
“I know, I know. And it will be used for threshing too.” She tucked the edges of the hides in around their wares. “Perhaps I should take Andrew with me.”
“Let him sleep. You know he loves being in the barn with us men. I swear that if I gave him a hammer, he’d help put up the stalls for the horses.”
“He can’t begin too soon. That’s what my far always said.”
“He was right. Now you be careful, you hear? If the temperature drops or that north wind starts to blow, you stay somewhere warm.”
“I promise.” She held up her hand. “But I’ll be back after dark, so leave a light in the window.”
“If you’re not, I’ll come looking for you.”
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