“Pretty good. We need two more, and then find a few more just in case.”
Other than Einar’s snoring, all was quiet at the house when they trudged up the steps later that evening.
“Daisy had thirteen babies,” Leif told Gerd, who was sitting out on the porch in the soft evening air.
“Does she have that many teats?”
“No, only twelve, but I made sure the little one nursed too.”
“Onkel Einar would tell you to knock the runt on the head and throw it on the manure pile.”
“But why would I do that?” Horror squeaked his voice.
“The runt never does well and takes away nourishment from the others.”
Leif turned to Rune. “Far!”
“My far used to say the same thing,” Rune said, “but we hand-raised more than a few runts through the years. If you can get them to nurse from a bottle, they might make it.”
Leif relaxed. “Can I try that?”
“Help the small one get to a teat for these first days of colostrum, and then you can switch it to cow’s milk on a bottle. It’ll be a gamble, but sometimes you win.”
“But more often you lose. Aren’t twenty-six babies with another sow to farrow, enough?” Gerd’s voice came gently from the darkness.
“I still want to try,” Leif said stubbornly, and Gerd patted his arm.
Rune swatted at a persistent mosquito. “Let’s get to bed, woodsmen. The morning will be here before we know it.”
Three days later, Signe stared at the tired faces around the breakfast table. “You can’t keep working so many hours. You all look like you should just go back to bed.”
As if on cue, Rune yawned. “The day after tomorrow is Sunday. We’ll go to church, and then I want the boys to go fishing. I’ve been dreaming of having fried fish for supper.”
Knute nearly leaped out his chair. “You mean it?”
“I hear there’s a lake not far from here. Can we fish off the banks?” Ivar asked.
“The Garborgs have a rowboat; they said we can use it. We can ask them at church.” Knute’s excitement lit up the table.
“What will you use for fishing gear?” Signe asked.
“I’ve got three willow poles, but only two hooks.”
She smiled. “I’m going to take butter and eggs to Benson’s. Surely they would have hooks and line, maybe even corks.”
“What are you going to do, Far?” Bjorn asked.
“I’m going to work in the cellar.”
Bjorn straightened. “Me, too.”
“I thought you’d want to go fishing.”
“I prefer hunting.” Bjorn shrugged.
Rune turned to Ivar. “He brought down two deer this last year. Between his hunting and Knute’s rabbit snares, we’ve had meat most of the year.”
“I could help you in the cellar,” Ivar offered.
“I know, but Knute and Leif love to fish, and—”
“So do you, Far,” Leif piped up. “Besides, who will check on my babies?”
“I will,” Gerd said firmly. “I should have been down to the barn more by now anyway. Seeing piglets and chicks”—she wagged her head—“best part of farming. That was always my responsibility, and here you are doing such a good job with it.”
Leif smiled. “But you have Kirstin to take care of now.”
Gerd nodded. “Ja, she is even better than baby pigs and chicks.”
“Next summer she can come to the barn with me.”
Signe rolled her eyes. She could just picture her little daughter playing in the dirt or the straw. “We shall see.”
“Help me down the steps!”
The order came Saturday evening as the men were returning from working in the cellar. Caught unaware, Rune blurted, “Why now?”
“Because I need help, and you just got here.” Even Einar’s bark was weaker.
Ivar leaped the porch stairs and offered his arm. “Do you have your cane?”
“Ja.”
“Then here we go.”
“Wait, I can help too.” Bjorn stopped on the first step. “Use my shoulder.”
Rune felt himself grinning from ear to ear. These were indeed young men to be proud of. Ivar clasped Einar’s hand and arm, and together they took one step down. Bjorn braced himself as the older man’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. The three of them paused to let Einar blow out a breath. One more step, and then the final one to the ground.
“You want to sit or walk?” Ivar asked.
“Sit on the steps.”
Both young men hovered, ready to help as Einar used his cane and an extended arm to lower himself to the middle step and sit with a grunt.
Rune felt like applauding but knew better. “You are a great deal stronger, Onkel. I know it is hard work.”
“Next week, out in the woods.”
Sitting on the porch, Rune could hear the June bugs slamming against the screens. A mosquito buzzed his ears. Crickets sang in the darkening dusk.
“The fireflies are out.” Leif pointed to a dancing dot above the path to the outhouse. And then another. “How come they only come out at night?”
“Some things like the day, and some like the dark. Besides, how could they see one another’s lights when the sun is out?”
“Mor brought back hooks, lines, and corks,” Knute reported. “She said there is a card about puppies on the board at the store.”
“Don’t need a dog here,” Einar almost barked, but not quite.
“Why not?” Knute asked, making Rune nearly choke.
“Dogs kill chickens and chase sheep.”
“We don’t have sheep.”
“The women want sheep. Got that spinning wheel and loom now.”
Rune reminded himself to breathe. Shock did that at times.
“Rugs might bring in some money,” Einar mused.
Swallowing a snort could make one cough. Rune covered his mouth and cleared his throat.
“Help me up.”
“To walk or back inside?” Ivar asked.
“Back up.” Einar shook his head. “Might not make it if I walk a ways first.”
“Can you believe that?” Rune whispered as he and Signe mounted the stairs to bed.
“We could hear him through the screen door. I thought Gerd was going to choke on her coffee.”
“You were drinking coffee and didn’t bring us any?”
“Didn’t want to interrupt.”
Rune’s chuckle danced softly through the darkness.
That night a rainstorm struck with only a smatter of warning before the deluge tried to pound the roof in on top of them. When the thunder crashed right above them, Kirstin woke with a shriek that matched the wind.
“Is she all right?” Nilda asked, raising her voice to be heard over the tumult.
Signe was already picking up her wailing daughter. “Shhhhh.” She stroked her baby’s back and spread kisses mixed with murmurs over her cheeks and forehead, swaying all the while.
Rune mumbled, “You okay?” before joining the boys as they slept on in spite of the uproar.
A few minutes later, when the storm had blown over, Signe whispered, “Nilda, you still awake?”
“Sort of.”
“Come on, let’s go sit on the porch.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Possibly.” Signe could only hear rather than see Nilda in the black of the room. Together they felt for the stairs with their feet and padded down. Dark as the house was, the darkness outside seemed to glow. Rainwater still gurgled through the down spouts and sang into the rain barrels. A breeze blew a few sprinkles into their faces as they sank down into the porch chairs.
Signe inhaled. “Nothing smells as wonderful as a rain-washed garden.”
“If it were daylight, I would have been out in it, washing my hair,” Nilda said.
“I know. I thought of that too.” Signe tipped her head back. “One day when there are trees by the house, the rain perfume will be even more healing.” K
irstin wriggled in her arms and then sighed herself back to sleep. “I could sleep out here in the coolness.”
“If we had porch screens, you really could. I saw them in a magazine.”
“When did you see a magazine like that?”
“On the ship.”
They sat outside for a few more minutes, then silently crept back up to their beds.
In the morning on the way to church, they detoured around mud puddles. Some trees were down, and a creek rushed by at the top of its banks.
“It really rained hard last night, huh?” Ivar looked to Rune.
“Seems so. Guess we slept through most of it.”
The two women in the bed of the wagon swapped smiles. “The fish should be biting well,” Signe called up to them.
Ivar smacked his lips. “Mmm, fish for supper.”
“We could probably catch more fish if we went now,” Knute added.
Rune shook his head. “Sorry, son, church comes first.”
“Did you go look in the new cellar?” Ivar asked Rune.
“Nei. If there is water in it, which is most likely, I will either work in spite of it or drag my feet through the mud it has left behind. I wish we could put up concrete walls and floor, but not this year. Some river gravel would be good down there in the meantime.”
After church, Mr. Benson greeted Rune and Signe and asked, “We going to be raising a house on Saturday?”
Rune nodded. “We’ll be ready.”
“Good to hear.” Benson clapped him on the shoulder. “When are they delivering the lumber and supplies? I’d have thought they’d have done so by now.”
“Starting tomorrow. After that storm last night, we’d have had some wet wood.”
“True. Good thing the roads will dry up quickly. I’ll let the others know. We’ll be there bright and early on Saturday.”
“Have you mentioned the house-raising to Mr. Strand yet?” Reverend Skarstead asked when they were shaking hands at the open door.
“The rest of us have talked about getting the house done, but not to him directly, no,” Signe said.
“You might want to, to keep him from coming out after us with a shotgun. Folks don’t take too kindly to that.”
“Yes, sir, we will take care of it,” Rune said. “I don’t think he’ll be up to much, even by then. Although he walked down and up the porch steps last night with the help of Ivar and Bjorn. He was nearly pleasant about it too.”
“Now that is good news. I’ve been praying for him. I’ll keep on it.” The reverend turned to Signe. “Now don’t you worry about feeding that crew on Saturday. The women will take care of that. Part of the package.”
“How will we ever repay you all?” Signe asked.
“You don’t. You just pass it on when someone else is in need.”
On the way home, the boys could talk of nothing but going fishing. The puddles in the road were already half gone. And Signe could not get Einar out of her mind. What if he did threaten all their new friends with a gun? Would he possibly do more than just threaten?
Chapter
29
Signe stepped out on the porch. “What are you doing?”
Rune looked up from the two-by-four he had laid across two sawhorses. “Building railings for Einar so he can get up and down the porch stairs more easily.”
Bjorn brought him the measuring stick and the saw. Together they measured the length needed.
“Do we need three posts, or is two enough?” Bjorn asked.
“Two should be fine. The top one nailed into the porch and the other onto the last step, high enough so he needn’t bend over.”
Signe watched her two men work as a well-trained team. They seemed to read each other’s minds as they measured and cut boards. Railings on these porch stairs would be good for all of them, especially Gerd. Strange how she thought of Gerd as an old woman when in reality she was only ten years older than Signe.
She could hear Gerd murmuring to Kirstin and the baby answering with her own little noises that were progressing from gurgles to real sounds. When they laid her on a quilt on the floor, she delighted in finding and catching her toes and feet, and playing with her hands, moving her fingers and grabbing for anything in sight. Gerd’s joy in the baby made Signe’s heart sing with thankfulness.
“Where’s Onkel Einar?” she asked as she returned to the kitchen, inhaling the rich odor of baking chicken.
“Sleeping in the chair in front of the window.”
“With all that hammering?”
Gerd shook her head. “He can sleep through anything, more so since the accident.”
“I think I’ll go weed and hill the potatoes.”
“Better take a can of kerosene. I think the bugs are there already. Just think, soon we’ll have new peas and perhaps tiny potatoes to cream. Nothing tastes better than peas right from the garden.”
“Or in the garden. Peas are best when shelled and eaten in the garden. Leif said there are almost blossoms.”
Signe put on a sunbonnet and headed for the machine shed, where the barrel of kerosene rested on a rack. She opened the spigot and drained a couple of inches into the can that waited on the shelf beside the barrel. It was a shame Leif wasn’t here; he had eagle eyes when it came to spotting bugs on the plants. She sure hoped the boys were catching fish. They’d save the baked chicken for tomorrow.
Once she’d finished the potatoes, she picked lettuce leaves off the quickly growing plants. Gerd’s recipe for a dressing of vinegar, sugar, and cream over baby lettuce leaves was as good as dessert.
Rune and Bjorn waved to her on their way out to the new cellar. Her sunbonnet hanging down her back, Signe lifted her face to the cooling breeze. Swallows dipped for mud in the pigpen where Leif kept a corner wet for the hogs in the heat. Building their nests up under the eaves of the barn took a lot of mud and hard work.
Signe wiped the dripping perspiration from her face with the edge of her apron. Good thing they had planted a long row of lettuce, or they’d not have enough for supper yet.
She met Nilda at the doorway. “Where you going?”
“Out to help Rune. I sure wish I had a pair of pants like the men. It would be much easier to work out there in pants.”
Signe smiled. “I remember cousin Ingeborg decided to work in pants when she and Kaaren were widowed in North Dakota and Ingeborg worked the fields to prove up her homestead. Kaaren wrote more letters home than she did. I never forgot that story. Remember how your mor told us and was so horrified?”
“Ja, Ingeborg did what was necessary. That’s where Ivar really wanted to go to work, in Blessing. He said that the last time a letter came from them, asking for workers, he was too young to go.”
Signe wanted to go with Nilda to see the new cellar but knew she needed to stay here in case Onkel Einar needed help, even though Rune had made her promise she would not help him walk or get within reach of his cane. How sad to have to think about something like that.
“Gerd!” The order thundered from the bedroom.
“Ja, coming.”
“Help me!”
Signe shook her head at the older woman as she entered the house. “I will.” I can duck faster than you can. She stopped in the bedroom doorway. “How can I help you?”
Einar had moved himself back to bed at some point. “I want Gerd.”
“Gerd is busy. How can I help you?”
“I am going out to the porch. Did Rune bring up the saw to sharpen?”
“I believe so. I’ll be right back.” She checked the porch and returned. “Ja, he did. The files are there too.”
“Help me!” He pushed himself to his feet, teetered a moment, but steadied himself.
“I will walk with you, but you must do it yourself.”
He glared at her, thumped his cane on the floor, and slowly shuffled around the end of the bed. Signe stepped back as he neared the door, earning herself another glare.
“Can you at least hold the door open?” he growle
d.
Do you ever say please? She nodded without answering.
He stumped through the doorway while she held the screen door open. He stopped and stared at the new railings. “Well, I’ll be. . . .”
Please, Lord, don’t let him start down those steps. Please.
Einar shuffled to his chair and lowered himself into it with a sigh. After a moment, he reached for the file and the long crosscut saw they used to fell the big trees.
The sound of the file was almost reassuring as Signe returned to the kitchen. The pan of baked chicken sat on the table, and she shook her head at Gerd.
The older woman huffed.“I know you don’t want me lifting heavy things, but really, that pan is not that heavy. I washed the lettuce, and I will cook the canned potatoes, our last two jars, later.”
Signe turned when she heard the boys shout for her and headed back to the porch.
“You better sharpen the knives, we got fish for supper!” Knute crowed. All three of them held up strings of fish. “We got perch and bass and even sunfish. Ivar says we’ll fillet them by the house and bury all the fish heads and skins between the corn rows.”
Signe got out two slender knives and set to sharpening them on the whetstone.
“They can use the tall bench in the shade. That’s where I butchered chickens and such.” Gerd shook her head, an almost-smile peeking out. “I wish they could show their far.”
“He will enjoy eating them fried more than seeing the stringers.” Signe checked the sharpness of the blades and, taking the whetstone along, went out to get them set up. Leif carried the dishpan.
“I caught the biggest one,” he told her.
That night, fishing stories bounced around the table. It was a good thing Onkel Einar had eaten outside and gone to bed, because the jollity in the kitchen would have earned them all orders to shut up.
“Mr. Garborg was real happy for us,” Knute said. “He said the fish have really been biting lately. The missus even smoked some of the bigger ones.”
The boys’ words tumbled and bumped over each other, leaving Signe with smiles and laughter. How wonderful to see her family having such a grand time, in spite of the grumpy man in the other room. He roared at them to be quiet once, but the hilarity dimmed only momentarily. Perhaps just enough time for him to fall asleep.
A Breath of Hope Page 24