Haakan banked the stoves while she folded a feather bed in half and laid it on the floor by the bed, then added folded sheets and quilts. She laid one blanket over the back of a chair by the stove.
When they were ready for bed, she wrapped the warm blanket around the little one and laid her in the middle of the well-padded pallet, tucking the quilts around her. Since her hair felt damp, Ingeborg brought a knit wool cap from the box by the door and put it over her head.
“There. Dear Lord, let her sleep peacefully, and keep those who brought her to us safe.”
“Amen,” Haakan said as he lifted the covers for Ingeborg to crawl under.
“We could put her in Astrid’s room after Freda comes back. That way there would be someone upstairs with her.”
“Very true. Good night, my Inge.”
Sometime during the night, Ingeborg felt a little hand lifting the covers, and the girl crawled in bed with them, snuggling against her back without a sound.
Was trust built so easily? A couple of cookies, a warm place, and a lap complete with rocking chair?
24
When Ingeborg awoke before daylight, she picked up the sleeping child and nestled her back on her own pallet before heading for the kitchen to wake the fire in the stove. With the clatter of lids and the scrunch and thunk of wood, all morning sounds to her ears, she didn’t hear the patter of two little feet and turned to see the little body, clothed in a droopy undershirt, climbing up into the rocker. The girl settled herself and leaned forward to get the chair moving, then stared at Ingeborg with a tentative smile.
“Well, good morning to you too.” Ingeborg held out her hand. “Come, I’ll show you the pot. You must be in misery by now.”
The smile disappeared, and she ducked her head, at the same time sliding forward off the chair seat. When Ingeborg showed her the enameled pot behind the dressing screen, the child hoisted the shirt and sat down like she’d been doing so all her life. When she finished, she hopped up and looked at Ingeborg, who nodded and smiled.
Back in the kitchen, she found her clothes in a pile in the corner and sat down to pull on the leggings.
“No.” Ingeborg shook her head. “They are wet and dirty.” She held out her hand again and brought her back to the chair, leaving the clothing behind. The child glared up at her but climbed up in the rocker again and jerked it into motion, arms clamped across her chest.
Ingeborg sliced a piece of bread, added butter and jam, and handed it to the child.
She took it, dipped a finger into the red jam and licked it off, then attacked the bread.
“Slow down. No one is going to take it from you.” Was food so scarce that people fought over it?
Ingeborg fixed the coffee and took a cup in to Haakan, the squeak of the rocking chair following her.
“She’s up, eh?”
“Ja. Could you hear us?”
“I heard you and figured what was going on. She made it through the night without accident or incident?”
“I felt her crawl up behind me at some point. She’s a pretty brave little girl. She’s not happy right now because I didn’t let her put her own clothes on. I’m going to call Kaaren and see if someone can bring things over.”
Haakan pondered a moment. “Did you check her head for lice?”
Ingeborg flinched. “I didn’t think of it. Oh, ick.” Her scalp felt itchy at the thought. “I will. Scrubbing with kerosene will not be easy. It stings and stinks both.” She left the room and fixed another slice of bread to distract the child while she lifted and parted her hair. Sure enough. Lice. Now she’d have to strip the bed and wash all the bedding this morning. Why hadn’t she thought of that last night? The easiest thing would be to cut her hair short to make it easier to wash.
Crossing to the telephone on the wall, Ingeborg cranked the handle. She turned to smile at Haakan. “It works today.” His shrug said he was as surprised as she was. When she heard Rebecca’s voice saying “Number please,” she knew something was wrong. Gerald usually took the night shift and Deborah MacCallister the day. “Is Gerald suffering again?”
“Yes. The fever started yesterday, and the muscle cramping made him miserable all night. Dr. Elizabeth sent over some quinine—we had run out. He’d been doing so well, you know. We were hoping the malaria had gone away.”
“From what I’ve read, it never goes away, but the episodes don’t happen so often.”
“That’s not good news. What number did you want?”
“Knutsons’, but first where was the break in the line? We had no phone yesterday.”
“You’ll have to ask Thorliff. I’ll put you right through.”
Ingeborg listened for the ringing. Kaaren picked up on the third.
After the greeting Ingeborg continued. “We have a guest here who needs some clothes. She’s about six or so, I would say. Small for her age.”
“Where did she come from?”
“The Indian reservation, I think. But someone must have brought her here. Andrew found her burrowed into the hay, or she surely would have frozen to death. She slept all of yesterday, and the phone was down, as you probably know.”
“I’ll dig in the trunks for something and send one of the boys over with them. The milkers have already left.” Kaaren paused a moment. “What are you going to do with her?”
“What can I do? The hardest thing is she’s not spoken a word, so we don’t know if she speaks English or not.”
“Uff da. Mine can’t hear. You have checked for that, right?” At Ingeborg’s assent, she continued, “And yours doesn’t talk. You don’t even know her name?”
“Nothing. We only know that she is so skinny it makes you want to weep, but she’s one tough little girl. She has lice.” Ingeborg glanced over to where the rocking chair kept moving. “And she loves the rocking chair.”
“What was she wearing?”
“Deerskin top, leggings laced to her knees, and moccasins with leg coverings with the hair side in. I have to figure how to scrub them too.” Ingeborg paused at a click on the phone line. Who had been listening in? That was one thing about the telephone. You never knew who all would hear your news. Not that it mattered if others heard at this point.
Kaaren chuckled. “Well, the news is out now. I better get back to helping Ilse get breakfast on the table.”
“How are your sick ones?”
“All on the mend. Why don’t I send Freda back with the clothing? You might need help with the scrubbing.”
“Good idea. Takk.”
Ingeborg hung up and turned to see Haakan pulling on his boots. “Think of a name for her.”
“You want me to tell Andrew?”
“I guess. It doesn’t really matter. Someone was listening, and I’m sure the entire town of Blessing will know by ten.”
“If it takes that long.” He pulled his wool winter hat with the earflaps down on his head. “Keep the coffee hot.”
Ingeborg brought the washtub back in and filled the boiler with water to heat. She could feel the dark eyes watching her as she moved about the kitchen, stirring up oatmeal for breakfast and slicing bread to be dipped in beaten eggs and fried. As the fragrances permeated the kitchen, she returned to the bedroom to get dressed, turning to find the child right behind her, as if she didn’t dare let her out of sight. She exchanged her robe and nightdress for the layers of clothing needed to keep warm enough. Wool stockings, flannel drawers and camisole, padded woolen petticoat with another over it and then her wool serge skirt and a sweater over her waist, finishing off with an ankle-length apron.
All the time she kept up a running monologue describing what she was doing and why, although she wondered why she did that. If the child did not speak English, she hoped the river of words sounded comforting. When the little girl shivered, Ingeborg returned to the kitchen, where it was warmer, to brush and braid her hair.
“Ingeborg, I’m home,” Freda called as she opened the door.
“Good. Come over here, where it is wa
rm.” Ingeborg laid the brush down and divided her hair into three sections. “How was the walk? Did you use the lane or the path across the field?”
“I followed the path the milkers used. The sun is trying to break through the clouds.” While she talked Freda unwrapped her long scarf and hung her outer things on the pegs on the wall. “I brought several sizes. She doesn’t look very big.”
“She’s not.” Ingeborg wrapped her braid around and around at the nape of her neck and pinned the coil in place. “There, that’s better. Now, let’s see what you have. After we finish breakfast, we are going to bathe her, and I’m thinking perhaps cut her hair to make it easier to wash.”
“Lice, eh?”
“Not surprising. Kaaren has to delouse a child or two every year.
I know you’ve been washing bedding day and night, but we’ll have to do that here too. Everything she might have touched, including our bed. She crawled in with us during the night. I never even thought of lice. All I could think was to get her warm again. She was so cold.”
“Any frostbite?”
“Remarkably little. Some spots on her toes is all.” Ingeborg laid the clothes on a chair where the little girl could see them from the rocker. “These are for you.” She held up a woolen shift and shirt, along with knit woolen stockings. “Oh good, I was wondering how quickly I could knit her some.”
When Haakan came in from milking, they sat down at the table.
“Andrew suggested we call her Emaline. I thought that was kind of pretty.” Haakan bowed his head, and the others followed.
Ingeborg glanced up from under her lashes to see the stubborn look had returned to the child’s face. If she thought sitting at the table was bad, wait until she had to endure the kerosene. Lord, help us through this.
“I think we should cut it.” Freda shook her head as they studied the rat’s nest that was Emaline’s hair. Ingeborg was still debating whether they should give her an English name or perhaps call her Shy Fawn in honor of her heritage. But then the other children would probably tease her, so an English name would be better.
“I guess you are right.” Ingeborg fetched the scissors from her sewing basket in the parlor. She handed Emaline two cookies, one for each hand, and lifted a hank of hair. When the sound of the scissors made the child whip her head around, the women sighed. This was not going to be easy.
Thunder settled on the girl’s brow.
“You distract her,” Freda suggested. “I’ll cut. We can make it pretty later.”
They developed a rhythm. Ingeborg held out a piece of cookie. Emaline reached for it, and Freda snipped off more hair. By the time they finished, both of them were shaking their heads. Now the hair no longer looked like a rat’s nest but like something had been chewing on the black mass. Freda dumped the cutoff hair into the fire.
“Pew! Burning hair stinks something awful.”
“Let’s get the bath done. Some children enjoy the water. Maybe this won’t be so bad.”
Emaline liked the warm water, splashing and holding her hand up with the soap bubbles. Even when Ingeborg rubbed the rose-smelling soap into her hair, she didn’t mind, sniffing the bar and nodding. But when they applied the kerosene, she scrunched up her face and let out a shriek that made the cat leap out of her box and slink off into the parlor. Ingeborg offered a piece of ham to distract her. Cookies would disintegrate into the water. They rinsed, soaped again to get the kerosene smell out, and rinsed some more. By this time all the fight had gone out of the child, and when they bundled her in warm towels and settled her in Ingeborg’s lap in the rocker, Emaline curled into as small a piece as she could, without a whimper.
“I sure hope we got ’em all.” Freda blew out a sigh. “I do not want to go through that again.”
Ingeborg didn’t remind her that it usually took at least two doses. Right now she just held the little one close and rocked gently, singing like she’d done the night before. She was glad they had few tangles to comb out, with her very short haircut.
The sound of boots on the porch caught their attention. Thorliff pushed open the door with a smile. “I hear you have company.”
Ingeborg looked at Freda. “What did I tell you? Everyone has heard.” She smiled at her son. “How about bringing Inga with you tomorrow? We’re hoping playing with her will make our little guest talk.”
“She hasn’t spoken?”
“No. Only a shriek when we poured the kerosene on her head for the lice.”
“Well, who wouldn’t shriek?” He set a package on the table. “Thelma sent some things she’d made for Inga that are too big yet. See if they fit.”
“Who told you?” Ingeborg asked, nodding to the sleeping child in her lap.
“Thelma. No idea who told her, but—”
“Coffee?”
“If it is hot. I told Far I’d be back out to the barn to discuss something with him. The clouds are still arguing with the sun.”
“Good. I wasn’t ready for winter to settle in yet.” And perhaps we can find out more about our little one if it clears enough so someone can ride out to the reservation.
“I brought you a letter from Astrid.” He handed the envelope to Ingeborg. “Care to read it aloud?” He nodded his thanks for the coffee that Freda poured for him.
“Of course.” Ingeborg slit the envelope open and drew out the single sheet of paper. She glanced down the page. “Oh my. She has a little boy who had to have both legs amputated, and she is wondering if someone here in Blessing would be willing to take him in.” She looked up to see Thorliff and Freda exchanging looks of astonishment. “This must be the time to take care of God’s little ones, children that no one else seems to want.”
* * *
WITH THE STORM gone, after breakfast Joshua waded through snow knee-deep in places and bare ground in others, depending on how the wind drifted it. Smoke rose straight above chimneys, and the warming sun sparkled the iced tree branches. One of the Geddicks waved to him from behind the team dragging the snowplow to clear the streets where needed. Penny was sweeping the porch of the mercantile.
“How’d you like our blizzard?” she asked.
“I didn’t. Nothing to do at the boardinghouse but eat and drink coffee.” He neglected to mention the party in the kitchen.
“Shame you couldn’t have made it over here. I could keep ten people busy cleaning and building new shelves and display racks. Well, maybe not ten.”
“Hjelmer out yet?”
“Oh yes. He and Mr. Sam are working on something over at the smithy. He’s planning on you being there.”
“Good. Do you have a big pad of paper I could buy and some more pencils?”
“How big?”
Joshua held his hands out about twenty-four inches apart.
“If I don’t, I know you could get some from Thorliff. He sometimes has odd sized newsprint paper left over and gives it to the schoolchildren. Pardon me if I’m nosey, but what are you drawing?”
“House plans. Where I want changes from the plans from Sears and Roebuck’s.”
“I see. Did you get the basement all dug?” Penny asked.
“Nearly. Still a pile of dirt in the center.”
“I think they are fixing something then going over to work on our house. I hear you were the star of quite a party at the boardinghouse during the blizzard.”
“We did have a good time. Made the time pass right quick.”
“Made me wish we were still living at the boardinghouse too.” She leaned on the broom handle. “I can’t wait for our house to be finished. The house we’re renting is much smaller than our house in Bismarck. Made us feel closed in during the blizzard. I do hope we have more fall now before winter really sets in.” She shook herself. “I better get this done instead of jabbering the morning away. And keeping you from working on my house.”
Joshua touched the brim of his hat with one finger and headed for the smithy, where he could hear a hammer ringing on metal. One thing for sure, if you were look
ing for a place to get warm, the smithy was it. The fire glowed red-hot in the forge, changing to white as Hjelmer pumped the bellows. Mr. Sam held a steel bar by the tongs with one hand and set it in the middle of the hottest flame until it glowed red, turning to white. Then he laid the bar on the anvil and set to pounding it into another shape with the heavy hammer.
“What are you working on?” Joshua raised his voice to be heard over the roar of the forge and the clanging metal.
“Good morning.” Hjelmer turned at his question. “Thinking on a way to get the grease to last longer on the windmill head so the men don’t have to go up and grease ’em so often. There’s got to be a way. You given any thought to this?”
“No. I’ve been thinking on the drill. I know the horses are easier since we got to have them along anyway, but what if we used a kerosene engine, something similar to what’s on the washing machines Penny carries at the store? I’d bet the company makes all sizes.”
“I thought about using a steam engine, but they’re too big to be practical. Something I read . . .” Hjelmer narrowed his eyes trying to remember. “I think they’re using kerosene engines to run the machines that make ice. You looked through a Sears and Roebuck catalog lately?”
“Nope, sorry.” Joshua shook his head. “Been concentrating on their house plans.”
“Think we’ll order a couple of the catalogs. May be something in there we can adapt.”
They left the shop a bit later and spent the rest of the day working on the interior of the house. Joshua nailed rough-cut two-by-quarter-inch strips on the walls so they’d be ready for the plaster later. One of the wise things about Hjelmer, he was always looking ahead. Like here they were running wire in the walls and ceilings for the day when electricity would come to Blessing. He knew there were electric lights in big cities, but gaslights were a new commodity in the country, where most people still used kerosene lamps. Joshua figured he would do the same. All he was learning on this house he could apply to his own. Indoor plumbing like they had at the boardinghouse, a furnace in the basement with heating vents and ducts to the rooms upstairs and down. He would give anything to be able to show his house to his mother. It would be a far cry from the tar paper shack he’d built out on his farm.
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