“You are both poets, I think,” Ingeborg said after she read their stories. “Have you chosen what you will memorize next?”
Thorliff grinned up at her. “Psalm 100.”
Baptiste, his dark eyes snapping, said, “Because it is short.” Both boys giggled.
“All right, but first we work on sums.” She looked at the notes Kaaren had left her. “I see you are in addition, Baptiste, and Thorliff is in multiplication.”
“We could work better if we had a cookie or something.” Thorliff tried to look woeful.
“Cookie! Cookie!” shouted Andrew, who had been putting buttons back into a tin.
When Ingeborg could finally send them out the door, reminding Thorliff to watch Andrew, she breathed a sigh of relief. She’d rather plow ten acres any day. She checked the dinner cooking in the oven and went outside herself to take up hoeing the garden. She’d hardly begun when she heard the clump and harness jingling of the approaching teams.
When Haakan and Hjelmer came in for dinner after washing up, Haakan said, “I’ve been thinking we should build a house this fall so that there will be room for all of us. We could order the lumber when we’re in Grand Forks.”
Ingeborg stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “When are we going to be in Grand Forks?”
“I thought maybe we could take a little trip after the wedding. Kaaren suggested it, and I think it’s a good idea. Hjelmer, here, can do the chores, right?” He glanced at the young man shoveling in food is if someone were going to take his plate away any moment.
“Ja.”
“Kaaren said she would take care of the boys. What do you think?”
What did she think? He wanted to build a house, a real house with windows and rooms and—“We can’t build a house that soon. A barn is much more important.”
“Spoken like a true farmer,” Haakan muttered.
“We could look at machinery and maybe even find someone to sell us breeding stock.”
“I suppose you want a roll of barbed wire for a wedding present?”
She ignored the teasing in his tone and cocked her head in thought. “One wouldn’t go very far.”
At Haakan’s shout of laughter, Andrew banged his spoon on the table, and Thorliff giggled into his cup of milk. Only Hjelmer failed to see the humor. He finished his plate and pushed back his chair. “I’ll take Lars’ oxen out this afternoon.”
“Don’t you want any cake?” Her comment was wasted in the banging of the door.
“I’ll take his piece,” Thorliff offered.
“Me cake.” Andrew set his spoon down and lifted up his plate.
“You want me to talk with him?”
“No, it is me he’s so surly with. I need to get to the bottom of it.” Ingeborg passed out pieces of apple cake—she’d used the last of the dried apples—and sat back down with a cup of coffee. What would be the best way to pursue this?
She put Andrew down for a nap, and after shutting the screen door to make sure he couldn’t get out should he wake sooner than usual, she started out to where she could see Hjelmer working with the oxen. Only he wasn’t alone. A young woman walked beside him, her head bare to show the dark red ringlets of Mary Ruth. Penny always kept her sunbonnet on because her nose burned so easily.
“Uff da!” Ingeborg turned and went back to her garden. “That young man is asking for trouble, that is for certain.”
Hjelmer, I need to talk with you.” Ingeborg stopped beside the young man as he unhitched the plow by the barn. The brindle pair of oxen that belonged to Lars stood patiently, their hides darkened and curled by sweat.
“Ja?”
You wont make it easy, will you?
“Look, if it is about Mary Ruth coming out in the afternoon, she doesn’t keep me from working, if that is what’s bothering you.” He let the tongue of the plow hit the ground with a thud.
“It’s not about what is bothering me, but what is bothering you.” Ingeborg clutched her elbows with the palms of her hands.
“Why should something be bothering me?”
“That’s a good question. One I keep asking myself.” Dear Lord, please give me wisdom. She waited, though the strain of it made her chew her lower lip. She waited while he winched up a bucket of water from the well and poured it into the trough. The oxen dipped their muzzles and drank till it was gone. They raised dripping faces and looked at him, pleading for more.
“That’s all for now.” He started to draw them back from the trough but paused. “All right, you want to know what’s bothering me, here it is. You keep me so busy in the field I hardly have time to build my own business, and that is what I want to do more than anything.”
“Doing what?” Ingeborg nodded. “Blacksmithing? You want to be a blacksmith?”
“Ja, I have no land of my own to farm, no money—”
“Hjelmer, I will pay you wages when the harvest is done.”
But it was as if she’d not spoken.
“No way to make a living for myself, let alone a wife. And you, you run around in britches, go hunting, work the fields, let someone else raise Roald’s sons . . .”
She couldn’t have stopped the torrent if she’d tried. Instead she stood listening to his bitter tirade, wishing she had armor to protect herself from his slinging barbs.
“And now you’re getting married to a man you hardly know—”
“He is your cousin. And Roald’s.”
“And he has all kinds of high-sounding ideas for this place.” He spun around to face her. “My brothers’ land.”
The light dawned for Ingeborg. His brothers’ land. He’d thought to come in and take over the land his brothers had fought to wrest from the prairie. With a supreme effort, she kept her own counsel. When he finally wound down, she looked up from the pigweed she’d been studying near the tip of her toe. She felt like hitting him over the head with the heavy oxen yoke, but instead, she just looked at him.
Within a few moments, he dropped his gaze and his shoulders slumped. “I . . . I’m sorry, that was uncalled-for.”
“Sometimes it helps to get things off your chest. Now I have listened to you, will you do me the honor of doing the same?”
He nodded, one hand stroking the ox nearest him.
“You have used the forge and what tools we do have to fix our plows and such.” At his nod, she continued. “And you have repaired and sharpened plowshares for others and re-rimmed wheels.” She let a silence hold. “Did I ask you to give me the money they paid you?”
“They didn’t pay me much.”
“I know. Few here have any spare cash. We usually trade for what we need and pray for a good harvest.” She sighed. “Hjelmer, this land is for Roald’s children and for Carl’s, had they lived. In the meantime, it is my land and Kaaren’s. If it means so much to you, I would give you a parcel, but—”
“But?”
“You said you wanted to be a blacksmith. Where would you go? Have you thought about that?”
He leaned his elbows on the ox’s broad back. “I would build a house and a blacksmith shop down where you plan to build the school and church. That is a crossroads and would be a central place for people to bring their tools. Roald talked long ago of building a town on Bjorklund land. Penny wants to have a store, and we could do this—”
“Penny?” Ingeborg kept a straight face.
Hjelmer nodded. “I can’t ask her to marry me until I have something to offer her. Joseph would not allow it, but we have talked. We have dreams.”
“What about Mary Ruth?”
The shutters dropped over his eager face. “I don’t invite her, she just comes. What am I to do?”
“Are you asking my advice?” Ingeborg prayed again for wisdom.
Hjelmer paused. “I . . . I guess I am.”
“Then you need to tell her you are interested in another.”
“Ja, I know. I . . . I tried, but she laughed me off. And then she got mad. You don’t want to be around when Mary Ruth gets mad.�
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Ingeborg nodded. That was something he would have to work out. “Let me tell you what I will do. If you want to build a shop by the cemetery, I will deed you five acres for all the work you’ve done since you came and up through harvest. If you continue to help out here, I will pay you wages.”
“You would do that?” He studied a hair sworl on the ox’s back, then looked up at Ingeborg. “After the way I have treated you?”
“Hjelmer, you are my family. All you have to do is ask for forgiveness, and it is there for you. Did you learn nothing in confirmation?”
“Ja, but you are not God. He forgives more easily than people do.”
“Are you asking?”
He nodded.
She waited.
He took in a deep breath. “Please forgive me for the way I have acted.”
While she could barely hear him since he spoke to the cow’s backbone, she nodded. “Of course. You are forgiven.” She stepped forward and patted his shoulder. “And now, can we please be friends like I remember in Nordland? I have missed that boy with the cheeky smile and the ready whistle.” She caught a shadow in the depths of his Bjorklund blue eyes. Was there something else he was still hiding?
“Ja, we are more than friends. You are my sister, and heaven help anyone who ever hurts you.” The last was said with typical Bjorklund emphasis.
She breathed a prayer of relief on the way to the soddy. Thorliff and Andrew were playing by the side of the house and ran out to greet Hjelmer when he drove the oxen by.
“Can we have a ride? Please?” Thorliff begged.
“Ja, you can. But you hang on to Andrew good so he don’t fall off.” As he spoke, Hjelmer swung Thorliff aboard and then settled Andrew in front of him. The oxen plodded on with only a switch of their tails, and Hjelmer began to whistle a cheerful tune.
“Oh, Lord, why did I wait so long?” Ingeborg shook her head as she entered the soddy. Could this have been settled long ago and saved them all the heartache? God only knew. How had she managed to keep a lock on her tongue? Again, God only knew. She kept her thanks going through the remainder of the meal preparation.
After hearing Hjelmer laugh with Thorliff out at the washstand, Haakan looked at her with a questioning eyebrow. She only tipped her head in a gesture of “I’ll tell you later” and finished settling Andrew onto his chair. When she thought about Lars and Kaaren not being back yet, she pushed the little drill of fear back into hiding. Tonight she would rejoice with the change in Hjelmer. As God’s Word said, “Let the day’s own troubles be sufficient for the day.” She was sure they were on the way back, and all was well. After all, when she made the trip she usually returned after dark, also. She’d learned long ago that waiting was always harder than doing.
Paws alerted them to the arrival before the jingle of harness reached their ears. His yip said it was family, not a stranger, so they all rushed to the door.
“Looks to me like you did a right bit of buying in Grand Forks,” Lars called to Haakan when he whoaed the team.
“The packages stayed wrapped, didn’t they?” Haakan raised high the lantern and peered into the wagon bed.
“No way you could wrap these two beauties.” Lars climbed down from the wagon and clapped a hand on the frame of one of the plows. “Tomorrow, I will be out before daybreak.”
“They sure are something.” Hjelmer had climbed into the wagon and was exploring every inch of the newfangled machines. “You think they will hold up in this heavy soil, busting sod and all?”
“Man selling them said they were reinforced special for the prairie. ’Cording to him, you could plow a section a day, but then we all know what they’ll promise when they’re trying to sell you something.”
“Looks to me like he sold you right well.” Lars walked around the wagon to help Kaaren down. Turning to Ingeborg, he asked, “You got supper ready? I could eat a mule.”
“Onkel Lars,” Thorliff protested.
“Not Jack, some other tough old thing.”
“Ja, I will just warm it up some. How did it go at the Bonanza farm?”
“They wish we’d come more often is all.” Kaaren reached in the wagon bed and lifted out a package. “Mrs. Carlson was right surprised to get your message, but she sent you her blessings. Said you deserved whatever happiness the good Lord had in store for you.”
Ingeborg started to reach in to help with the unloading, but Haakan shooed her and Kaaren away. “You go on in and get that supper on the table. We’ll take care of this.”
“I don’t know,” Kaaren said in answer to Ingeborg’s questioning look. “But, Inge, wait till you see what we bought. Four metal milk buckets, so shiny you can see your face in them, and a separator for the cream. No more skimming the pans for us. The cheese and butter will go much faster now.
“And for you, my little pumpkin”—she grabbed Andrew’s hands and danced him in a circle—“we brought—”
“No, don’t tell him. Let him open the package,” Lars interrupted.
She handed a flat parcel to Thorliff. “Use this with our love.”
Thorliff carefully untied the string and unwrapped the paper. Both were far too precious to waste. His eyes widened into circles. “Oh, Tante Kaaren, Onkel Lars, mange takk, mange takk.” He sank down on a chair, caressing the tablet of lined writing paper. Two pencils were tied to the tablet.
“So you can save your writings, Thorliff. Someday we will all be proud of what you write, and I want to be able to look back and see where I helped you get better.” She sat down beside him. “I think if you write on the slate first, and when the writing is the best you can make it, then you can copy your work to the paper.”
Andrew reached up a grubby hand to grab the treasure. “Me see.”
“No!” At the baby’s crestfallen look, Thorliff held his precious tablet down to be seen. “But do not touch. This is not for Andrew.”
“But this is.” Kaaren handed the child a round wrapped parcel. She helped him untie the string and unwrap the red object. “This is a ball.” She showed him how it bounced on the floor. Andrew crowed in delight and tried to grab the bouncing toy. It skittered away from him and away he went after it.
“That should keep him occupied for a while.” Lars took a chair at the table. He propped his foot up on his knee and sighed. “Sure is good to be home.”
Ingeborg dished up plates of venison stew and slices of bread and set them before the travelers. Just as she finished pouring the coffee, Haakan came through the door. “I can’t seem to pry Hjelmer away from the plows, but I guess the rest of us can have a party.” He set a package before each of them. “We’ll just call these wedding presents.”
“For all of us?” Lars stopped the forkful of food halfway to his mouth. “You got it wrong, man. For weddings the groom gets gifts. He doesn’t give them.”
“Ja, well, I’ve never been one to follow conventions.” He waved his hands. “Open them. Children first.”
Andrew was so busy chasing his ball, he ignored the goings on, but Thorliff, eyes sparkling, carefully unwrapped yet a second present. “Books.” He looked up at the man leaning against the wall. “Three books. Mor, look, I never had three new books before.” He opened one and sniffed the pages. “Wait till Baptiste sees these. And they smell so good.” He sniffed again and held the book to his mother.
Andrew came to his mother’s knee and dutifully stuck his nose on the page, but Thorliff removed the book quickly. Andrew still hadn’t gotten down the idea of sniffing, but he did understand blowing. Haakan took Andrew’s hand and led him outside. When they returned, the little boy was riding in a red wagon.
“Merciful heavens, you must have spent a fortune.” Ingeborg sank back in her chair.
“A man gets married to a woman like you with two fine strapping sons only once in his life. I want us all to remember it.”
“I’m sure we will.”
“Open yours.” Haakan pulled the wagon around the table, bumping into chair legs, which o
nly made Andrew bounce and crow more.
Ingeborg followed Thorliff’s care in unwrapping the package. She laid the paper flat on the table, the folded garment in the middle. “A dress! It . . . it’s beautiful.”
“I hope it fits. The lady said that since you was such a good seamstress, you could take it in if you had to.” Haakan stopped behind her. “You’ll look lovely in it, I know.”
Ingeborg raised the dress by the shoulders and held the lovely rose-colored garment to her. The lace at the oval neckline and at the hems of the short sleeves felt rich beneath her fingers.
“I was right.” Haakan’s voice cracked on the words, and Ingeborg felt the familiar warmth curl around her heart once again.
“Man, those plows are the best thing that—” Hjelmer burst through the door. “Oh! Well shoot, if that’s going to be your wedding dress, you’ll do us all some proud. Sorry for bustin’ in like that.”
“I brought you a gift, too.” Haakan handed the young man a package.
Hjelmer hefted it and cocked his head sideways just a bit. “It’s heavy enough I wouldn’t want to drop it on my toe.”
“Open it!” Thorliff demanded, looking up from his book.
Hjelmer did as instructed, being as careful of the string and paper as everyone else. He held up a vise, the pleasure cracking his face wide. “I’ve sure needed one of these.” He stroked the length of metal. “That’ll help when I have to make new parts for them fancy plows out there.”
“The man at the machinery store said they’d always carry replacement parts.”
“Ja, well, Grand Forks is a mite far to go when the plow breaks down. Unless you plan to keep a full set of extras here, I’ll plan on using this to make and repair the old ones.” He saluted Ingeborg. “Just the beginning, right?”
Lauraine Snelling - [Red River of the North 02] Page 29