This tractor pulled itself.
“You want me to start it up so you can see for yourself?” one of the salesmen asked. “That’s made by Case out of Racine, Wisconsin. John Deere hasn’t made one yet.”
Hjelmer shook his head. “No thanks. I’ve seen a demonstration already.” He scratched his chin. “You sell many of those?”
“More each year. You don’t have to feed them all winter, you know. And the power! Why, one tractor takes the place of ten horses, and it don’t get tired by noon either. Long as you keep the steam up, this tractor keeps on rolling.” He slapped the rounded metal that housed the man-tall, cleated-steel wheels. “You mark my words, farming with horses and oxen is on the way out. One day every farmer will have a tractor or two. Think how fast your fields would get plowed with one tractor pulling a four-bottom plow. You can buy either a straw burner or a coal burner.”
“Ja, and when that boiler blows up, it kills everyone within fifty feet.” Hjelmer had read of a steam engine that did just that. “And it takes two men to run it.” He shook his head again. “Think I’ll stay with horse-drawn for a while longer.” He pointed over at a seed drill.
“Tell me some about that piece. Looks like there’s been lots of improvements since last year. Maybe it’s time to start stocking those.”
As they moved from machine to machine, Hjelmer took notes on a pad of paper he’d brought for just this purpose. “Oh, and what do you know about those tall rigs with paddles in a circle on top that I’ve been seeing from the train? What are they used for?
“They are windmills. They harness the wind to pump water from your well. You can keep your stock tanks full now without ever pumping again.”
“Well, I’ll be.” Hjelmer looked around. “You carry them?”
“Nope. Wish we did, but you’ll find a dealer about half a mile down the road. Different companies make their own model. Folks jumping on the bandwagon like crazy. Some of the funniest-lookin’ rigs you ever want to see.” The man shook his head. “But they work.
Man, do they work.”
“Well, thank you for your time. Think I’ll go learn about windmills. Since the wind almost always blows in the Red River Valley, they might be a good thing to stock.”
An hour later he had purchased four fans with vanes and ordered gearboxes, along with shafts that went down in the wells. He figured Haakan and Lars would produce the lumber to build the towers for now, but steel framework was the coming thing. He could hardly wait to get home and show Haakan the new contraptions and the diagrams for the towers. If he knew his farmers, there’d be windmills sprouting in the valley like sunflowers in the spring.
But first he had to find Augusta.
He caught the trolley back to the railroad station, hoping Henry had returned. He was there waiting for him.
“Hjelmer, I got good news for you.” Henry wore a smile that near to cracked his face.
“Good thing. We’re about due for good news.”
“I think your sister got on one of the southern spur lines. McDonnell, the usual conductor on that line, has been off sick and just came back.” Henry flashed Hjelmer a delighted grin. “He thinks he remembers your sister, though he ain’t sure.”
“So let’s go talk to him.”
“Well, that ain’t so easy. He left half an hour ago and won’t be back until tomorrow.”
Hjelmer groaned. “Why didn’t I come back here earlier?”
Blessing
“So when do you think Hjelmer will be home?” Agnes Baard continued to cut out the cookies with the new cookie cutter Sam had made for them, this one in the shape of a diamond.
Penny opened the oven door and leaned down to check the doneness of the molasses cookies already baking. “I wish I knew.”
The plaintive tone drew Agnes’s attention from the rolled dough to her niece. “You still aren’t with child?”
“No! And how I ever will be without Hjelmer home more than a day or two at a time is beyond me. Making babies does take two, you know.” Penny closed the oven door with a bit more force than necessary. “I think he has a wandering foot, or rather, in his case, both feet. You watch, he’ll come home all excited about some new piece of machinery that he just happened to learn about in St. Paul when he was supposed to be looking for his sister. You watch.”
Agnes only made an agreeing sound and went back to her cookies. With the second pan full, she motioned Penny to open the oven door so she could slide it onto the bottom rack. “I think that first pan is done.”
Penny half smiled. “I bet you wish you’d not said anything.”
“Better to get it out with me than let it fester and explode all over Hjelmer when he does come home.”
“Do I do that?”
“I reckon so. We all do.”
Penny lifted the round lid on the fire side of the stove and inserted two chunks of wood, then adjusted the damper again.
“I’ve heard tell that the more you worry about not having a baby, the less chance there will be to have one. Some folks just take longer than others. That’s the way of it.”
“You don’t think God is punishing me, then?” Penny stared at the stove, her back to her aunt. If there’d been any other noise, Agnes wouldn’t have heard the question, Penny’s voice dropped so much.
“Pshaw. Whatever for?” Agnes gathered the bits of dough together and rolled out the last round.
“Oh, things like wanting the best store in the Red River Valley, being proud of my sewing machines, getting mad at Hjelmer—I can think of all kinds of things.” She looked over her shoulder without turning around.
“Are you putting those things before Jesus?”
“I don’t think so, but . . .”
“I know. It’s hard to tell at times.”
The bell tinkled above the front store door, calling Penny back to work.
“Mmm, something sure smells good.” Pastor Solberg sniffed again and smiled at Penny. “You’ve been baking.”
“How can you tell?” Penny glanced down. She knew she’d changed her apron just before she walked through the doorway.
“Flour on your chin.” He pointed to his own chin to show her where.
“Thanks. How was school today?”
Solberg rolled his eyes. “I might have to stuff a rag in Toby’s mouth and tie Andrew to his seat.”
“Oh-oh. Now what?”
“Just a carry-over from the party the other night. All the other children can accept our two new ones, but Toby and Jerry come from a whole different background.”
“Have you talked with Sam and Eulah about this yet?”
“No one was at home. I thought to catch Sam here, but he’s not in the smithy either. Is Eulah over helping at the boardinghouse?”
Penny shook her head. “What do you think I am, the town keeper? Can’t find someone, ask Penny?”
“Seems that way, doesn’t it?”
“God dag, Pastor.” Agnes came into the store, carrying a plate of still-warm molasses cookies. “Thought we’d get a third opinion on these. New recipe.” She held out the plate.
John Solberg took one and after one bite said, “You better keep them under lock and key if you want any left by tomorrow. What’s different?”
“Applesauce.”
“Maybe we should have put sugar on top.” Penny took a cookie too. “Of course what these really need is a cup of coffee.”
“I wish. But I better get on my way. Maybe Sam is over helping Olaf.” At Agnes’s invitation, he took a couple more cookies and went out the door.
“Let’s get some paper cut, and I’ll make you some more of the bags. Maybe Ellie would like to come over and help me now that school is out.”
“Sounds good.” Penny stared toward the door. “Maybe Sam’s two little ones could come too. Let me go find out. Tell anyone who comes in that I’ll be right back.”
“As if I can’t wait on them myself?”
Penny headed out the back door and across the narrow f
ield to the house on the other side of the sack house. She waved at a couple of the farmers with wagonloads of sacked grain waiting to be weighed, then knocked on the screen door. “Anybody home?”
“Hi, Mrs. Bjorklund.” Ellie came to the door. “Come on in.”
“Is Hans here?”
“Uh-huh.” Ellie held open the door.
“How would the two of you like to come over and help us paste up paper bags? Maybe you could run over and ask Mrs. Lincoln about her two young ones also.”
“Sure. Hans is doing his schoolwork, but he can do that later.”
“Okay. Come as soon as you can.” Penny stepped back off the porch and looked up at the trailing Vs of ducks and geese. She knew where Thorliff and Baptiste were for sure—out hunting. Maybe they’d bag enough geese that she could sell smoked goose again this year.
Ellie caught up with her before she got back to the store. “Pa needed Hans for a bit, so he’ll come later. I can go over and ask Mrs. Lincoln, if ’n you like.”
Penny nodded, and Ellie ran off, jumping over a clump of grass and waving her hands in the breeze. The joy she saw made Penny almost do the same. Oh, to be six years old again. She looked around to make sure no one was looking and, with a running head start, leaped over the chopping block, her skirts and petticoat billowing around her knees as she landed. She spun in place and lifted her face to the westerly sun. Maybe she didn’t need to be six after all, just act like it.
She smoothed her dark skirt back down and made her way up the path to the back door, managing to work a skip or two into her pace.
“Good day for vaulting,” Anner Valders said when she returned to the store. The twinkle in his dark eyes betrayed the chuckle that daren’t come forth.
Penny could feel the heat start up her neck. He’d seen her through the window in the bank room. “Ja, some days are good for most anything.”
“Mr. Valders,” Agnes called from the kitchen, “are you in need of a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, please.” He nodded to Penny, the serious look he usually wore back in place.
“You know”—Penny entered the bank room through the arched doorway—“you need to smile more often, Mr. Valders. You’ve got nice eyes when they twinkle.” Now the heat really rose, splashing over onto her cheekbones. What in the world possessed me to say such a thing?
He studied her as if he had to add up a column of figures without a pen. “You know, you are most likely right. Thank you for the compliment.” When Agnes passed Penny with the cookie plate and a mug of coffee, Anner Valders looked up at her and actually smiled. “And thank you, Mrs. Baard. Fine day, is it not?”
The doorbell tinkled just in time to keep Penny’s eyes from watering. Must be due to the brisk air, she thought as she turned back to the store. “I’m coming.”
“Mail’s here.” The railroad conductor tossed a canvas bag on the counter. “What’s that I smell? Molasses?”
“Mr. Haraldon, you could detect fresh cookies under a pile of hay. Wait right here, and I’ll get you some.” She had to remind herself that skipping wasn’t quite fitting for the store’s proprietress. It must be something in the air.
Later when she saw her name written on the front of an envelope with an Ohio postmark, she felt like skipping again but made do with a small hop. She could hear the children and Agnes laughing in the kitchen as they pasted up the sides of the brown paper bags. Folks had already gathered, as they did every afternoon, to wait for her to set out the mail, so she stuffed the letter in her apron pocket and went about her business.
What if this was from another one of her brothers or sisters? What if they were coming to visit? The letter seemed to burn a hole right through the cotton fabric.
Chapter 22
The Ranch
Late September
“Come.” Kane beckoned from the doorway.
Augusta tucked her knitting back in the basket she had found and got to her feet. She followed him out the front door and stopped on the porch. The roses growing on either side of the steps smelled sweet on the faint breeze. The frost the night before hadn’t killed them as she had been afraid it would. Fall had dressed the elm and oak trees in shades from gold to russet with everything in between. A matching leaf skirt drifted over the ground beneath.
Kane stopped beside a horse that looked to have been painted with the same fiery red as the leaves. The horse rubbed its forehead against his shoulder as he motioned her to join him.
“Do you ride?” He pantomimed her mounting.
“For me?” Augusta clasped her hands to her breast. How she would love to ride free like the breeze, and this horse wasn’t even a workhorse, not with those dainty feet.
“Come on.” Kane motioned with his head this time and held out a stirrup.
Augusta glanced down at her skirt. Was it full enough that she could ride astride without showing parts of her legs that weren’t supposed to be shown? She shook her head. “It is not proper.”
He patted the horse’s neck and motioned her to come again.
Augusta looked around. None of the other men were in view. The only other dress she had was a shapeless thing that Morning Dove had found for her. The skirt on it carried much less material than the wool one she was wearing. I’ll do it. Who cares about my ankles? She smiled back at the man by the horse and strode down the walk. Placing her foot in the stirrup, she swung her leg and skirts over the saddle and found the other stirrup before rearranging her skirts. When she smiled down at him, her breath caught in her throat.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, and while she didn’t understand the words, the look in his eyes was unmistakable. Warmth, caring, delight, a dollop of joy. She wanted to take hold of the hand that handed her the reins, to reach down and trace a finger over his chin. She felt as though she were drowning in his eyes.
The horse stamped a front foot.
“This is horse.” He pointed to the horse and repeated the name. He almost said filly but realized he didn’t want to try to explain that with the limited words at his use.
She echoed him and leaned forward to stroke the filly’s mane to the right side. “Such a beautiful horse.” Throwing her arms around the animal’s neck didn’t seem like the proper thing to do, but oh, how she longed to do just that.
“Th-thank you.”
“You are indeed welcome.”
Kane mounted his horse and led the way down the lane and out into the fields that led to the rolling hills. As they rode side by side, he pointed out a covey of sand grouse, a hawk screeching above them, a patch of late-blooming fall asters. When they came around the breast of a hill, she saw the deer drinking at the pond first and pointed it out without talking. After the deer bounded away, the yellow-headed blackbirds picked up their swamp chorus again, joined by both their redwing and tricolor cousins.
She leaned back against the cantle to ease the jog, and at her beam of delight, Kane broke into a lope. Her hair broke loose from its bindings and flowed behind her like a golden banner. Not since she was a child on the slopes of Norway’s mountains had she ridden like this, but then she had ridden bareback. Thanks to the stirrups and the horn of the heavy roping saddle, she was regaining her balance and confidence with a speed beyond her imagination. She could ride. She really could, even if holding on to the horn at times seemed a wise precaution.
When Kane brought his horse to a stop, she laughed aloud in sheer delight.
Cows and half-grown calves put their tails in the air and ran from them, making her laugh again.
Kane’s heart lurched at the sound of her joy. Lord, I would do anything to make her laugh like that some more. Thank you for bringing this perfect horse for her and for bringing my Norwegian princess here to me. Was that love or at least caring I saw in her eyes? How long, Lord, do I wait before I make her my own?
He watched her as she chuckled when a calf hid behind its mother and then peeked out from around her haunches, the tail swatting the calf ’s face. Kane joined in with
a chuckle of his own when Augusta’s smile invited him to. She tossed her head, sending the golden waves rippling down her back. When she realized he was studying her, she tried to gather her hair back in some semblance of order, but at a brief shake of his head, she shrugged and let it go.
Augusta could feel his gaze burning into her flesh. She glanced at him, then down at her hands clasping the reins on the saddle horn. What did he want? Why was she getting warm all over? She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. They felt crackly dry, like her throat.
Why doesn’t he say something? She shook her head and felt the hair swishing against her back. Here she was, an unmarried woman, riding who knew where—well, he knew—with an unmarried man, her ankles showing, and her hair down her back. What would her mor say to this?
The picture didn’t bear thinking of.
Thoughts of her mother banished the smile from her face and the song from her heart.
When would he take her to Blessing? Surely she was healthy again, so that was no excuse. But he didn’t seem in much of a hurry. At the thought of leaving this place, this man, a cloud turned gray and settled around her. But she’d given her word, had written to Mor that she was coming to help with the boardinghouse.
She started to ask, but he interrupted her.
“Come, we must go back.” His face had gone from summer to winter without enjoying fall. What had she done?
She tried to smooth her skirt down with one hand. Until she had some hairpins or ribbons, there was nothing she could do about her hair. She turned her horse and followed behind all the way back to the ranch house. Convinced she had done something to offend him, she racked her brains all the way back. But what? What could she have done?
They rode up to the barn, and Kane dismounted, looping his reins over the hitching post. He turned back to her and, drawing the reins from her hands, did the same for her horse.
Blessing in Disguise Page 17