The first wagons delivering lumber for the new house arrived late on Monday morning, pulled by teams of four horses. Leif ran to tell Rune and the others, who trotted over to help the drivers unload the wagons. The drivers turned down an offer of dinner and drove directly back to Blackduck.
“How many loads will there be, Far?” Leif asked as they sat at the dinner table.
“I am not sure, but they said they would load the wagons again today and be here earlier tomorrow.”
“We will have sandwiches for them tomorrow.” Signe had started bread that morning. With the new yeast from Benson’s, they no longer had to start the sourdough the night before.
“What are you doing?” Nilda’s near shout an hour later brought Signe running to the back door.
“I am going down the steps,” Einar barked.
“But what if—?” Nilda stopped, giving a glare that matched his, and grabbed the ax to split wood. Keeping one eye on Einar slowed down the slam of the ax splitting rounds on the chopping block.
Signe breathed a sigh of relief when Einar reached the bottom of the steps and stood firm on the ground. She held her breath again when he turned and started back up the stairs. If only Rune were here in case he fell again.
“No fool like an old fool,” Gerd muttered behind her. “You can’t tell him anything, so don’t waste your breath.”
When Einar set to sharpening the saw, Signe sighed again. “Onkel Einar, you want a cup of coffee?”
“I will take it to him. He might poke you with his cane.” Gerd did as she said and came back shaking her head. “At least he feels he is doing something. That might settle him down some.”
By Wednesday, all the framing lumber was stacked near the cellar. Every evening, Rune and the boys slaved to get the cellar posts and ceiling joists in place. They finished Friday night.
“Tomorrow we lay the flooring at dawn.” Rune looked haggard, aging before her eyes with the hours they put in every day.
“I will help Leif with the chores in the morning so you can all get started.” Nilda looked to Signe. “They said not to worry about food . . .”
“But we can bake those three rabbits Knute brought in and serve them with noodles,” Signe said.
Gerd swayed with Kirstin in her arms. “You and me, we’ll take care of the house, right, baby?” She kissed the baby’s fists and cheek, getting her hair pulled in reply. Untangling her hair from the grasping fists, she and Kirstin both made happy noises.
Rune roused everyone before the sun yellowed the sky. He ignored Einar’s early mutterings that soon escalated into threats. After a hurried breakfast, he took his crew out to the house. Einar moved to the porch to start on the other saw.
“And keep track of what everyone is doing,” Gerd muttered.
When the wagons started arriving for the house-raising, Einar stood on the edge of the porch, muttering and glaring.
Please, Lord, keep him from scaring away these wonderful people who are coming to help us. Signe saw four wagons drive past the house and down the lane to the piles of lumber where Rune and the boys were laying down flooring as fast as they could.
Leif harnessed Rosie to the cart and drove up to the house. “Far said to fill the cream cans with water for the workers.”
They pumped and hauled buckets of water to fill the cream cans, and Leif waved as he drove off again.
“What will we use as tables for the food?” Signe asked.
“The sawhorses with boards laid over them and set up down there. I’m sure the women will arrive about eleven thirty,” Gerd answered. “At least that’s the way it was the day we raised this house.”
“You had helpers?”
“Ja, that was before Einar . . . well, got so angry.” Gerd did not look at her.
“I hope someday you will tell us the entire story. Perhaps then we can understand better.”
“We’ll see.”
They were just loading their dinner contributions into the cart when they saw two wagons coming down the lane. Mrs. Benson waved from the first one. “We’ll follow you,” she shouted.
When they arrived at the new house, some of the men were turning the saw horses into tables, while others kept on hammering. Three walls had been lifted and nailed in place on the subflooring for the first floor, long boards bracing the framing, and the fourth was being assembled on the ground, almost ready to be raised in turn.
Signe paused after stepping down from the cart and stared at the house rising from the hole. “It is real,” she whispered. “We really are going to have a home of our own.” She nudged Nilda. “Look who’s here.” She nodded to the young men up on the ladders, both Petter Thorvaldson from the lumberyard and Fritz Larsson, the schoolteacher and organist. They both waved at Nilda.
Nilda waved back and turned to help carry over the food. Within minutes, the women flocked around the table, uncovering dishes, sticking big spoons in bowls and wooden spoons in pots, and laying out a stack of plates.
Mrs. Benson banged a big metal spoon on a pot to get everyone’s attention and nodded to Nilda, who hollered, “Dinner is served.”
The hammering ceased immediately, men scurried down ladders, and Reverend Skarstead raised his arms. “Let us pray.” He paused for silence and then began. “Lord God, heavenly Father, we are gathered here in your name to create a home for Rune and his family. We thank you for the privilege of building a new house, for getting to know each other better as we work together. Bless this home and this food to our bodies. Lord Jesus, we give you all the praise and glory. In your precious name.” He paused, and the amen rolled across the building site.
Laughing, the men jostled for the line and started heaping their plates full.
As Signe dipped water from the milk cans into the men’s cups, she kept an eye on the long table of food and the people both serving and eating it. She could not help but notice how Mr. Larsson and Petter Thorvaldson lingered by Nilda as she cut big slabs of bread. They were both grinning broadly, though she could not hear what they were saying to Nilda.
“You know, Signe,” Mrs. Benson whispered, “I think two of the young men here are more than a little aware of our Nilda.”
Signe shook her head. “She and Mr. Thorvaldson became friends on the ship coming over. She was glad to see him again, but nothing else. At least, I don’t think so. And Mr. Larsson, he teaches our boys. And the English class for adults.” She didn’t mention that she had noticed his interest in Nilda at class.
Mrs. Benson shrugged. “All I can say is that this is the first barn or house-raising that Mr. Larsson has ever attended. He is usually practicing the organ on Saturdays for church the next day. Just something I noticed. And besides, both of them are hovering around her like bees around the only buttercup.”
Signe watched Nilda carry the coffeepot around and refill cups. She was laughing at a comment from one of the men, the sun glinting off her deep golden hair, which was getting more sun-streaked as the summer continued. Nilda was indeed having a good time. Her laugh rang out again, making those around her smile.
And to think they had been best friends for so many years and were now here in America, living in the same house and working together. Signe had never dreamed something this wonderful could happen.
“Where is that sweet little daughter of yours?” one of the women asked.
“Tante Gerd is taking care of her at the house.”
“She is growing up so fast. It’s been so long since I had a baby around that I forget what one can be like.” Mrs. Benson glanced up. “I better go cut the pies and cakes so the men can get back to work. Don’t you worry about tomorrow. Most of the workers will have dinner at home before coming here, and we will bring food for an afternoon break. Mr. Benson said they should be able to set the ridge board in place and most of the rafters, maybe even the roofing boards. Doing two full floors like this is a big difference from something like the Strand house.”
“It looks huge already.”
Af
ter dinner, the men went back to work, and the women cleaned up the dinner things, each retrieving the items she’d brought to wash at home. Nilda and Signe helped load the wagons and waved them off.
“So this is the way they do things here in Minnesota.” Nilda dusted her hands together. “Some neighborly, that’s for sure.”
Together they loaded the cream cans along with their things in the cart, drove it up to the house, unloaded, refilled the cream cans with water, and Leif took them back to the building site.
On their way to the house, Signe nudged Nilda. “You seemed to be having a fine time with your two gentleman helpers. Although I’m not sure they were real friendly to each other.”
Nilda stopped and stared at her. “What?” Her brow wrinkled. “Who?” But her cheeks were reddening as she spoke.
“You know, Mr. Larsson and Mr. Thorvaldson.”
“They were just being polite.”
Signe nodded. “Of course. However, even Mrs. Benson commented on them hovering around you like honey bees.”
“Signe Carlson, I never—” Nilda clamped her fists on her hips.
Signe snorted. “Just thought I’d mention it. I think it’s kind of fun.”
Nilda shook her head. “Perhaps Gerd will have the coffee on.”
As the shadows lengthened, some of the men left to do chores at home. Einar stood on the back porch and yelled at every wagon that went by, waving his fist in the air. “And don’t come back! Stay off my land.”
Some stayed on until dusk made it too dark to pound nails any longer. Mr. Benson was one of the last to leave. “Many of us will be back tomorrow after church. And I know a few who might drop by when they can find the time later. You’ll be able to move into your new house sooner than you think.”
Rune shook his hand. “We can never thank you enough.”
“That’s all right. Good things happen when neighbors help each other. Far as I can see, that’s the way God wants us to live, helping each other.” Mr. Benson looked toward the other house. “It’s a shame Einar can’t let go of the past. He always was rather stern but still a good man.”
“Seems there are a few other people with the same problem, holding on to the past.”
“Yep, there are. Downright shame.” Mr. Benson waved as he drove out.
A shotgun blast split the air.
Rune spun around and raced toward the house. “Einar Strand, what on earth were you thinking?” he yelled once he was in earshot.
Einar tried to turn, staggered, and grabbed for the porch post, his shotgun clattering to the ground. “I can shoot any time I want. Be glad I shot in the air as a warning.”
Rune felt his jaw drop before he strode up to the porch. What in the world? He forced himself to slow down and swallow at least some of the words he wanted to bellow. “These people are helping build our house, you know that!”
“He was on my land, and he knows I do not want anyone on my land.”
“Einar Strand, have all these falls gone to your head?” Rune leaned over and picked up the shotgun.
“Gimme that!”
Rune bit back the “come and get it” comment that almost made it out of his mouth. All he needed right now was for Einar to go down again. Weary did not begin to describe his leaden feet and fuzzy mind. Surely he misunderstood what Einar had just done. But the weight of the gun in his hand told him otherwise.
“Give me that gun,” Einar repeated.
Rune ignored him, instead going inside and hanging the gun on the hooks above the bedroom door. He shot Signe a sad look and kept on going up the stairs to bed. He could hear the boys breathing in the gentle air. How they could sleep through all that noise was beyond him, but gratitude helped blur anger’s edges.
Lord, give me patience, he prayed as he drifted off.
Chapter
30
Morning came before anyone was ready to meet the new day. Rune fought his heavy eyes, blinking in the dimness. The cooling breeze that announced dawn came through the window. He breathed in deep, praying for the energy to get through this day. Lord, what do we do about Einar? What if he had aimed that gun at someone? Thankfully it was the shotgun, which would never reach that far, but if he was crazy enough to shoot at all, would he be tempted to use the rifle?
Rune pulled on his pants and slid the suspenders over his shoulders. He had to move the rifle. In the barn or machine shed would have to work. Since Signe and Nilda had already gone downstairs, he roused the boys and pulled on his boots. He paused, looking around the slope-roofed attic and nodding. Einar would not search up here. He had to do this without Gerd knowing so she would not give it away.
Walking carefully down the stairs, he looked above the back door. Good, the rifle hung just where Bjorn had put it, with the shotgun over the bedroom door. He lifted the rifle down and, after the boys went out the door, took it upstairs and laid it against a wall back under the slant of the roof.
They were a quiet group on the way to church that morning. But they were all there, and that counted for something. While the house called them to come work, church called softly with the promise of worship. God was answering their prayers so far beyond what Rune had asked for.
Mr. Benson met him at the door. “Good morning, Rune.”
“Mr. Benson.”
“My name is Josef. Joe.”
“Ja, takk, but I have to apologize for Einar.”
“I wanted to talk about that. If I were you—”
“You would hide the guns?”
“Yes.”
“I hid the rifle but not the shotgun. The wagons are too far away, and he did shoot up in the air.”
“I would not take chances.” Benson looked directly into Rune’s eyes. “I am concerned for all of you.”
Rune felt his mouth open and close and then stay open. Slowly his head wagged as if with a mind of its own. He tried to form words, but they would not come. Surely Einar wouldn’t—couldn’t . . .
Rune closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes, sir.” Lord God, protect us, please. Surely Onkel Einar would not do such a thing. Even his thoughts couldn’t form all the words.
He sat through worship in a daze.
When they stood for the benediction, Signe studied him, concern written all over her face. “What?” she whispered.
“Tell you later.”
Organ music followed them out the doors, and several men shook hands with Rune, saying they’d see him a bit later.
“I’m so sorry I cannot come help today,” Reverend Skarstead said at the doorway. “I have my other parish to take care of too.”
Rune shook his head. “I know that, and I cannot say enough thank-yous for your help yesterday and for encouraging so many others to come. I have never in my life seen so much work accomplished in so little time. Unbelievable.”
“By the grace of God, Rune. Grace of God.”
Rune loaded his family into the wagon and set the horses to a trot until the women called, “Enough, we are bouncing like balls back here.”
“Sorry, just a bit excited to get home.” But how could he hide the shotgun without Einar noticing?
Einar was sitting on the porch, sharpening a saw. He shook his head. “Waste of good time.”
Rune gritted his teeth and went into the kitchen without saying a word.
Gerd looked up at him and said for his ears only, “Don’t let him make you mad. His bark is always worse than his bite.”
“I hope to God so. What if—?” Rune shook his head. “Can we eat right away?”
“Sit down, we will have food on the table by the time everyone is seated.” Gerd reached up and patted his cheek. “Like you said, all will be well.”
Her words reverberated in his head as he wolfed down his dinner. The boys leaped up to follow him out the door, Leif grabbing another biscuit on his way past the basket.
By the time the other men arrived, they had the tools all laid out again and leftover pieces of lumber tossed into a pile away from the sawhorse
s. The cream cans of water sat in the shade of the nearest tree to keep them cool. The crew was smaller than the day before but started to work with a will. Most of them finished framing in the second floor, including the plate around the top of the framed walls. Several others started measuring and cutting the rafters. Knute and Leif were the go-fers, doing anything that was called for.
Rune marveled at how well these men worked. They hammered in temporary scaffolding to stand upon as they anchored the posts that would support the ridgebeam. A shout went up when the beam settled into place. By afternoon, they were raising rafters and nailing them into position. Nail by nail, the structure looked more like a house.
Thank you, Lord. Thank you, God.
But even with as much progress as they made, and working till dusk, they were not able to get all the rafters in place.
“Sorry, Rune. We hoped to get further.” Joe Benson shook his head. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Got to get that roof on before it rains again.”
“You can’t do that.” Rune shook his head. “Next Saturday would be great.”
“Yes, I can, and so can a couple of others.”
But I need to be out in the woods or—no. Einar would just have to be angry. This was more important than another tree or two. “We will all be out here. I cannot thank you enough.”
“Far!” Leif came running up, panting.
Rune shook his head. “In a minute.”
“No, Far, Onkel Einar is missing.”
Rune turned to face his son fully. “Einar is missing? He can’t walk that far.”
“Tante Gerd sent me.” Leif could hardly talk around his puffing.
Joe Benson turned and yelled to the last few men getting in their wagons. “Einar Strand is missing.”
The four of them gathered around, looking to Rune.
“He can’t have gotten far,” Rune said. “We’ll search the farm buildings first. I’ll go talk with Gerd, see what happened.”
They loaded up the wagons and drove to the barn, Rune heading to the house while the others fanned out.
A Breath of Hope Page 25