“I am going to farm. I told you that.” The growl deepened with each word spaced to cut.
“I know, but from what I see, that soil isn’t real good for growing things. Going to take a lot of building up. Lots of rocks to pick out too.”
“That’s what those boys are good for.”
My boys will be working on our own home, at least part of the time. Not yours. “I’ve been wondering how to get those stumps out. A lot of stumps out there.”
“Dynamite works.”
“Dangerous.”
“Not if you know how.” At least Einar’s voice was back to his normal growl. “I was hoping to get another couple of acres ready for spring planting. Going to need more hay if we get more cows. That wife of yours going to make cheese?”
Rune shook his head. “Her name is Signe. And now that Gerd is stronger, once the cows are out on pasture again, she is hoping to.”
The snow cover gave Blackduck a crisp, clean appearance. Still, even if you flattened out Norway’s hills and mountains into a level plain, this town looked totally different. In Norway, you were either in the town or not. Here, you passed a few farms, then more farms, and then a feedlot, and then the stores, which were, Rune assumed, the town proper. It was so spread out. Scattered. Norway’s towns were compact, the buildings all huddled together.
Rune suddenly realized why. In Norway, land was precious and you used every inch. Here, there was plenty of land for everyone. Einar’s generous offer of acreage was not nearly as generous as it had sounded when Rune was still in Norway. Land in Minnesota was cheap and plentiful.
He pointed toward what appeared to be a mill. “How about leaving me off at the lumberyard, then I will meet you at Bergen’s General Store?”
Einar nodded. “Going to the feedstore too. If you buy any wood, we need to load that before the feed.”
Rune nodded. It would be easiest if Einar just waited for him at the lumberyard, but the thought of Einar getting impatient while Rune talked with someone there did not seem like a good thing.
Einar lined the team over in front of the lumberyard office. Rune barely had his boots on the ground before Einar clucked the team forward.
“Takk.” Rune didn’t expect an answer, and he didn’t get one. He strode up to the building marked Office and opened the door. Overhead, a bell jangled. Monroe’s Lumber was one of the largest businesses in town, and praise to God, the storekeeper spoke both English and Norwegian.
“Ah, Mr. Carlson, I haven’t seen you for a long time. How can I help you?” The clerk greeted him with a smile.
“Good day, Mr. Hechstrom.” Rune nodded. “I need both wood and information.”
“Well, hopefully I have what you need on both counts. Let’s start with the information.” Mr. Hechstrom leaned on the counter. “What are you thinking to build now?”
“Skis for my boys to get to school easier.”
“They know how to ski?”
“That they do. Don’t all Norwegians know how to ski?”
“Depends on when and where they came from. You made skis before?”
Rune shook his head. “We used the ones my far made but could not bring them along. I know he used hickory, but I was thinking perhaps birch would be easier to find here. Or ash?”
“Most folks use black ash. Hickory is so heavy, and birch warps more easily. But if you soak black ash and bend up the front, when it dries, it stays that way. Keep ’em well waxed and stored straight, and you got skis for a lifetime. You heard about the ski clubs popping up? Big group down in Red Wing.”
Rune shook his head. As if he went anywhere to hear any news. “So who is making skis? I just thought to make ’em for us. Skiing makes good sense here. Faster than horse travel and easier on the horse.”
“The Halversons over in Bemidji are shipping skis back to Norway.”
“Really?” Rune nodded slowly. “You have any black ash here?”
“I do, have to keep it in stock. Have birch too. How much you want?”
Rune reined his mind back to dealing with the here and now. “Ash, please. Enough for two pairs. Start there.”
“I heard you got some land from old Strand. When you planning to build?”
“How did—?” Rune cut off the question. Probably from the sheriff. Folks said women did the gossiping, but men told stories. Getting the best of Einar Strand seemed to be worth a tale or two. “Hope to start digging the cellar soon as the ground thaws.”
“So we’re probably looking at late June to build, then?”
“Depends on how fast my boys and I can dig it out.”
Hechstrom snorted. “I’m sure old Einar’s not going to help you any.”
“Probably not. All he thinks about is cutting trees.”
“You thinking a log cabin?”
“The trees are too big for that. I’ll be ordering milled lumber when we get closer. I thought about using some of our trees for the lumber, but that will be too green, right?”
Hechstrom nodded. “So for now, you just need ski planks?”
Rune held out his hand, measuring from the floor. “Knute is about this tall and Leif about here. But they sure are growing fast, so I suppose I should make all the skis six foot and let Leif grow into them. That way we could all use them easy enough.” He shook his head. “I know my wife would love to ski again. You ever seen anyone carry a baby in a sling or backpack while on skis?”
“Might make her the talk of Benson’s Corner, but . . .” He shrugged. “You do what needs doing.” He grinned.
Rune smiled and nodded. “So where can I get good ski wax?”
“Over at Bergen’s. They carry about everything. You going to build your house out of white pine?”
“Dry as it can be.”
“We got some of last year’s under a roof. Should be good by then. Still a lot of building going on around here. Makes you wonder, if you think about the diminishing acres of white pine left. Those big companies, they just clean out an area and move on. Watched ’em do that all across the northern part of this country.” He leaned his elbows on the counter.
Rune nodded. “Farming will keep expanding.”
“Yeah, but so much of that soil is only good for growing trees. Fella I met talked about planting hardwoods. That’s what nature does, replants. Pine trees take a lot of years to grow back, but they will eventually.”
“Planting hardwoods, eh?” Rune thought of all the birch already growing where the pines had either fallen or been cut down. “Black ash grows here?”
“Yup, and maple. Some make orchards of sugar maple too. Then cut the wood when it is big enough.”
So how did you feed your family while the trees were growing? Rune couldn’t see Einar being that patient, but . . . on his own five acres . . . he could plant trees on part of it. Half pasture, half trees. His head teemed with questions and ideas. He nodded. “Takk. You give me a lot to think about.”
Mr. Hechstrom slapped his hand on the counter. “So, I got some real straight black ash, one by four by eight foot. You might want to get an extra board or two, just in case something goes wrong.”
Rune counted out his carefully hoarded cash and paid, and together they walked out into the back of the long tall building where they kept the finer woods. He picked out six lengths. “We’ll be back for them.”
“I’ll keep them right here for you.”
Rune looked longingly at the different kinds and cuts of wood. He had always known he liked working with wood, a desire that came down from his far and his far’s far. He inhaled the deep, rich fragrance of the gathered woods. Some, like cedar, smelled stronger, even drove the bugs away. He hated to be in a hurry to leave, but he had no desire to get left behind. “Takk. Tusen takk. I will see you later.”
He walked out to the main street and turned toward Bergen’s General Store.
Einar was inside, waiting at the counter. He had already amassed a pile of purchases. “You got the list?”
Rune pulled it o
ut of his pocket and handed it to Einar. He smiled at the woman behind the counter. She smiled in return.
Einar frowned. “This all?”
Rune nodded. “Gerd and Signe both went over the list.”
Still scowling, Einar slapped the list down on the counter.
To the clerk, Rune said, “Mr. Hechstrom at the lumberyard said you carry ski wax.”
“Ja, we do. Comes in a block.” She reached behind her to some wrapped cakes that looked rather like soap packages.
He thought a moment and nodded. “I would like two, please.”
Einar gave a snort of disgust.
Rune ignored him, something he was getting better at doing. “How long until the order will be ready?”
“Give me half an hour.”
“Good, we need to pick up some other things.” He turned. Einar was already halfway to the door. Rune turned back to the woman and smiled. “Takk.”
She smiled and nodded, then sent a glare in Einar’s direction. Seemed like he had a bad reputation in Blackduck too.
Outside, Einar untied the team. “How much wood you got?”
Rune told him. “Thought it would fit straight along the side of the bed.”
“We’ll get feed after that. You talk to that Hechstrom fellow about that addition to the shop?”
Rune stared at him. “But you said—” He cut off the rest of his surprise. “We haven’t measured yet to see what we need. Besides, we can’t add on until the snow is gone.”
Einar grunted. “We can put the floor down and continue that front wall. Build a door like the barn.”
“You want to talk to him?”
Einar shook his head. “Tell him to put it on my tab, and we’ll pick it up next Saturday if it ain’t storming.”
As if they had time right now to build that in. “When you thinking to move the logs?”
“Better do it soon, before the frost goes out. Tell him we need a pulley and tackle too. Need that today, and hawser rope, couple hundred feet. Tell him what we’re doing. He’ll know how much.”
“We could use a pulley in the haymow, too. Especially since you’re expanding your hayfields this spring.”
Einar shook his head. “Just get one.”
Rune returned to the lumberyard feeling a bit smug and with a lighter heart. He was finally becoming able to direct Einar’s thoughts toward the future, away from negative things and toward positive things. And that was something he had not thought could happen.
But then, coming to this lumberyard always lightened his heart. Besides the wood aromas and stacks of milled lumber, there was Mr. Hechstrom. Together, by guess and by golly, they figured out approximately what would be needed for the extension on Einar’s shed in only ten minutes.
Once the ash planks, pulley, and rope were loaded, they drove to the feedstore, then returned to Bergen’s.
“You remember this here dynamite needs to be kept dry,” the man loading the wagon cautioned.
The look Einar sent him made him shrug and shake his head. But he carefully set the wooden box at the front of the bed on the floor. They tied down the load and climbed back up on the seat.
“Takk.” Rune smiled at the store employee who had helped them load. “Appreciate the help.”
Einar slapped the reins, and the team settled into their collars, somehow knowing that pulling the loaded wagon would take more effort on their part.
Rune’s happy thoughts dissolved under Einar’s black cloud. He gritted his teeth. Couldn’t Einar Strand at least be a little polite?
Chapter
6
So how did the trip go?”
Signe could feel Rune shaking his head. They had not had time to talk since the two men returned from Blackduck. She had been shocked to see such a huge load come jingling down the lane. They had yet to put away all the new supplies. Rune had promised to be careful with the box of dynamite. The box made her heart drop to somewhere around her ankles. The thought of having dynamite anywhere on the farm made her skin crawl. Accidents could happen so easily.
“I feel sorry for him.”
She jerked herself back to the man beside her. “For Einar?”
“Ja. He . . .”
Signe waited, thinking perhaps Rune had fallen asleep. A thought tripped through her sleepy mind. What had Einar done to make Rune feel that way? Another followed. What would it take to make that man, as she’d come to call him, even look at her, let alone speak to her? How could he hang on to a grudge for so long? She could feel sleep creeping over her.
“He is never nice to anyone,” Rune said.
Signe swallowed her snort. “I wonder if he was always like this.” And why did Gerd ever marry him? That question had come to her before. What were they both like when they were younger? She trapped a yawn, her eyes closing in spite of her. Rune’s breathing told her he had fallen asleep even if he desired to tell her more. She breathed her thanks.
Kirstin’s squirming and hungry cries brought her mor out of a dream that left her wondering. Something bad had happened, but waking to her baby made her smile both inside and out. Kirstin was better than a rooster for an alarm clock.
Rune groaned and managed to pull his pants over his long johns and shove his feet into his boots. They were both adept at dressing in the dark. He moved to the wooden box where the kerosene lamp and matches waited. “Mornings like this remind me that spring can’t come too soon.”
Dressed in a robe and slippers, Signe picked up the baby and blinked against the lamplight. Rune carried the lamp down the stairs and held it up so she could see to follow him. In the kitchen, he started the stove while she changed the baby and sat down in the rocking chair to nurse her. The snapping of wood catching fire and the gurgles and throaty murmurs of the nursing baby made a fine good morning song.
“I’ll call the boys.”
“I heard someone moving around up there.”
By the time Bjorn staggered into the kitchen, scrubbing his hair back with his fingers, she was adjusting the baby in the sling around her shoulder. No longer could she carry the baby in front. She and Gerd had devised a way to carry her on their backs, still leaving their hands free to cook or do whatever needed doing.
As long as her mor was moving around, Kirstin gurgled and made baby conversation until she drifted off to sleep again.
“What do you need from the well house?” Bjorn asked.
“Milk, cream, and the full churn.” She smiled at her eldest son. “Takk.”
He shrugged into his winter things, and as he went out the door to the porch, the other two boys blinked their way into the kitchen.
“What’s for breakfast?” Leif asked.
“Bacon, eggs, fried cornmeal, and syrup.”
“Can I cut a piece of bread to eat on the way to the barn?” Knute could eat a full meal and want more an hour later.
Signe nodded to the breadbox in the pantry. “Help yourself. Cut three.”
Some time later, when all the menfolk were off to their labors, and Kirstin was demanding to eat again, Gerd fixed plates for both of them and set them on the table. She and Signe sat down at their places and heaved sighs of relief. The two cats sat side by side on the braided rag rug in front of the stove, tails curled around their front feet, eyes slitted. Signe happened to be looking at them when Gra’s eyes flew open, and in one motion, they both leaped to their feet and tore into the pantry.
“Good hearing,” Gerd said.
“Hope they catch it.” One more thing to be thankful for—the mouse population had nearly abandoned the house. And now that they had inside stairs down to the cellar, the cats had taken care of that part of the house too.
“Do most babies start on real food at this age?” Gerd asked.
“My mor told me to, and it worked with the boys. But she also said that all babies do not do well with it.” She looked down at her daughter’s smiling face, milk drool leaking from one side of her mouth. “You don’t want to waste any of that precious stuff, l
ittle one.”
Kirstin waved her fist and gurgled an answer.
“I always dreamed of nursing a baby.” Gerd swirled her cornmeal slab to mop up the last of the syrup on her plate. She nodded while putting it in her mouth. “Never did get pregnant.”
“I am sorry.”
“Perhaps it was better this way.”
“I couldn’t for a long time after Leif. Pretty much gave up hope.” Signe stroked her daughter’s cheek. “And then she came along. I think she is God’s gift to us, being born in this country and all. We waited so long. Since I had lost several, we almost decided not to come when we learned I was pregnant. But we all got here just fine, and she is growing like those weeds that try to take over the garden. I thought about naming her Joy, but the boys liked the name Kirstin.”
“So she is Kirstin Joy Carlson.” Gerd nodded and held up her cup. “More?” She motioned for Signe to stay seated. “I’ll get it.” As she refilled their cups, she nodded to the churn by the stove. “I will do that while you get the bread going. Let’s get that venison haunch started in the big kettle for soup.”
Signe nodded and set her baby on her knees, propping her up with both hands on her sides. Jiggling her knees made Kirstin giggle, then laugh out loud. Joy was such a good name for her. There had been more laughter in this house with this happy baby than there had probably ever been before.
“Let’s tie her in the rocker, and I can keep that going with my foot while I churn,” Gerd suggested.
“Ja, fine idea.” Signe drained her coffee cup and, baby on hip, set their dishes in the steaming soapy water in the pan on the stove. She paused and smiled at Gerd. “I am so grateful since you got better.” She waved a hand around the kitchen. “I never dreamed this could happen.”
“I didn’t either. Bringing you and Rune and your family over here was the best thing Einar has ever done for me. And he thought it was all for felling more trees.” She set to washing the dishes. “I even appreciate doing the dishes now.”
Signe nodded and sniffed. She blew her nose on the bit of flannel she kept in her apron pocket. Thankfulness made even the cats and the kitchen smile. A streak of sun gilding a window design on the floor invited both cats to curl up there.
A Breath of Hope Page 5