No Distance Too Far

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Thelma, could you please bring a cup of coffee to the lying-in room?”

  “Of course. Are you all right?”

  “I’m not sure, but a bit of a lie-down and a cup of coffee will most likely set me to rights.”

  Thelma shook her head. “You are taking on too much.”

  Look who’s talking. “Did Thorliff tell you there will be company for supper tonight?” At Thelma’s nod, Ingeborg continued. “Freda is bringing in two pies along with the girls.”

  “Might be better to leave the girls out to your house one more day. You sleep here tonight, and we can switch off checking on Elizabeth.”

  “Get me up in a half hour or so, and I’ll help you with supper.”

  Not sure if the grunt was a yes or a no, she entered the lying-in room, where most of the babies were born, and collapsed on the bed. Without Haakan to remove her shoes, she slept with them on. Why am I so tired? was her last thought before deep sleep claimed her.

  “Ingeborg?” Haakan stroked her shoulder. “Supper is ready. Come now. You need to wake up if you want to be part of the meeting.”

  “Meeting? What meeting?” She rubbed her eyes and forced them open. “Did you say supper?” At his nod, she sat up and thumped her feet on the floor. “Uff da. I put my shoes up on the bed. Whatever was the matter with me?” Not expecting an answer, she smoothed tendrils of hair back to tuck up under the braids she wore woven around her head. “Thelma was supposed to come and get me.”

  “Freda is helping her.”

  “And who is taking care of the girls?”

  “Ellie is, and Anna Brunderson has gone over to help her. We decided not to bring them today. You see, you must trust these younger women to do what needs to be done.”

  Ingeborg brushed at the spot on the nine patch on the diagonal quilt that she’d lain on. “I know better than this.”

  Haakan took her hands and pulled her up. “Come along now. You can fuss with that later.”

  “Is everyone here?”

  “Ja.” He paused and turned to look into her eyes. “You don’t have to attend this, you know. I will tell you all that happens.”

  “I know. But something makes me think I should be there. But first I should go up and check on Elizabeth.”

  “You should come in and eat. When did you eat last?”

  Since she couldn’t come up with a good answer, she wisely kept her mouth closed. Was that why she had been so tired? Actually, now that she was awake, the achiness was gone, and she felt much better.

  When they entered the dining room, she was pleased to see that Pastor Solberg was in attendance too. After he said grace and all the serving dishes were passed, Thorliff nodded to Mr. Jeffers to tell his story, and a strange one it was. He’d stopped at every little town and hamlet on the route between Alexandria and Blessing, and finally one day he found a place where someone had indeed buried a stranger. They’d found the body in a thicket by the road, and because of the rough clothing worn, they figured he was a vagrant and buried him.

  “When I asked them if there were any gunshot or knife wounds, they said no. They thought the man died of natural causes, but they couldn’t be certain. I had them dig the box up, and it was my father. He had a couple of scars, including missing the end of his right thumb, that made identifying him clear. I had them bury the box again. I can’t see any reason to haul it back home, unless my mother insists, which I hope she doesn’t.” He cleared his throat. “So that answers part of the question. How the man who you all met here managed to steal my father’s identity, I’ll never know.”

  “Unless he came upon a dead body, changed clothes, and took on the new identity for himself. No one further west than Blessing would know who the other man was anyway.” Thorliff rubbed the side of his nose with one finger.

  Just the way his father did, Ingeborg thought, watching her son run the meeting without seeming to at all.

  “Had he not been such a scoundrel, he might have gotten away with it.” Pastor Solberg held his cup for Thelma to refill from the coffeepot.

  “He did get away with it. He’s not been caught again.”

  “Yet.”

  “True. That might be an answer we never get. But we do know about the patent we all talked about for a new seeder. I’ve been giving it some thought, and . . .” Thorliff focused on Mr. Jeffers. “And like you suggested, I think we could build a production plant right here in Blessing. We could advertise in the larger papers for skilled machinists. The first stage would be constructing a building large enough to begin with. We could add more on later if need be.”

  “We will need more investment dollars.” Lars held his hand over his cup to signal he’d had enough. Turning to Mr. Jeffers, he asked, “You have clear title to this patent?”

  “I do, since my father and I were in business together. I already checked the legality of that. I would like to see this happen before someone else beats us to the production stage. Machinery is changing quickly these days, and while my father was quite a forward thinker, months have passed. I know this is an impossible question, but what kind of a timeline do you think we can plan on?”

  Ingeborg stared at the schematic drawing on the table in front of them. It certainly would speed up the seeding process in the spring. If only they’d had the seeders in use this year. With the late spring and wet fields, grain that should be up several inches was just getting into the ground.

  She turned at a tapping on her shoulder.

  “Elizabeth is asking for you.”

  Ingeborg pushed her chair back and left the room as quietly as possible. She climbed the stairs, foreboding weighing on her like a sack of grain across her shoulders. She entered the bedroom to find Elizabeth with tears streaming down her face.

  “I am spotting again.” She dissolved into sobs in Ingeborg’s arms.

  Thorliff strode through the door. When they told him what was happening, he threw his head back and swallowed hard. “I telephoned for Astrid to come home. She said she would get on the first train going north.”

  Both Ingeborg and Elizabeth stared back at him in shock.

  Ingeborg felt a huge weight slide off her shoulders as she turned back to Elizabeth. Please, God, let this baby settle back in. Thank you that Astrid is coming home. Astrid is coming home! Oh, thank you, Lord. But what if she doesn’t stay but returns to school? The thought stopped her short. She sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out. I will praise your name, O Lord, for this time with my daughter. I will be grateful for every moment I have her near. Please, Lord, make me willing to be willing.

  18

  If they could keep going like they had been, they’d be home a week early.

  Joshua stared at the books, his eyes feeling like he’d just been through a sandstorm. Why couldn’t he get to sleep? Most nights he was out before his head hit the pillow, but not tonight, so he’d gotten back up and sat at the table to catch up on the bookwork. They’d already completed eight of the ten wells and windmills they’d set out to do.

  So far Hjelmer had not contacted them with more to do. The original agreement was that if they didn’t hear differently, they should head back to Blessing on completion.

  Surely he’d managed to sell enough more to keep his crew going. Why, they had three people that already said they wanted their wells dug. Neighbors of happy customers. He finished his page and pulled out a sheet of paper. Might as well write to Astrid. He tapped the end of his pencil against his chin. What could he say? It wasn’t like anything exciting had happened.

  Dear Astrid,

  I hope you are enjoying your missionary school. The place sounds lovely the way you wrote about it. I have always heard there are a lot of blooming flowers and trees in the South. But you well know how beautiful spring is here in the Red River Valley. The wild flowers are just starting to bloom. We saw a patch of wild strawberries the other day, but there were no strawberries yet, the blooms just beginning.

  I find that I am missing life in Blessin
g. I feel more at home there than I have any place in my life. Johnny is doing great on the guitar, and Linnea has a real ear for the piano. She picks out the tunes and already understands chords. She has taken some lessons from Dr. Bjorklund. I guess just enough to get her started. When we all play together, we are becoming a real group. When Jonathan gets here, we’ll really sound good. I heard a rumor that someone is dreaming of an organ for the church. I dream of having a banjo someday.

  As I told you in my last letter, I was hoping to have the concrete poured for my basement before I left, but I ran out of time. The thought of having a home of my own makes the days fly by, not that they need any help.

  The three of us make a good team. Trygve has a good head on his shoulders for one so young. He works hard but also is always thinking ahead. We’ve been drawing up some ideas for improvements on windmills. Hjelmer is always on the lookout for new angles to explore, as you already know.

  He stopped to think. Was Hjelmer so tied up in new things that he wasn’t looking for more farmers who needed drilled wells and windmills? Moths bombarded the screen, trying to get into the light. A breeze squeezed through the screen to tickle his neck. He knew he should be getting to sleep and, with a yawn, realized he would probably drift off now. His mother had always said, “Old man worry comes to chase away sleep.” Was he worried? He thought about that a bit. No, he didn’t think he was worried. He did still have the loan to pay off, but his promotion helped. He liked doing this part of the business. Maybe that was his worry—having to give up what he at first hadn’t wanted to do. He smiled. Life sure did twist and turn sometimes. He knew the truth now. He just needed to trust God. If there weren’t more wells to dig, he would find something else to do. Jobs were plentiful in Blessing.

  He returned to his letter.

  Guess I had better blow out the lamp and get some sleep. Sometimes I wish I could look ahead and see what the future holds, but then I am glad I can’t. As Pastor Solberg said, “We know who holds the future.” That is indeed a comforting thought.

  His mind took off again. He daily hoped and prayed that Astrid would be part of his future—a close part. And as he drifted off, he wondered how he would feel if the answer was no. Could he still stay in Blessing? How much of Blessing was tied to his feelings for Astrid, or was it the reverse?

  THANKS TO HIS late night, morning came mighty soon. Joshua woke to the sound of someone starting the fire in the cookstove. None of them minded a cold breakfast, but they all wanted hot coffee. He stretched and rolled himself out of the hammock, his feet hitting the wooden floor with a thud. After getting dressed, he gave the other hammock a push to wake the sleeper.

  “Thought maybe you were going to sleep all day,” Trygve said with a grin over his shoulder. “This getting our own breakfast is getting old. We need to find that next farm.”

  “I know. It can’t be too far away. Since you have the fire hot, how about frying some eggs and bread?” The last farmer’s wife had sent them off with a dozen eggs, a loaf of bread, and a jug of milk. When Joshua tried to pay for it, she fluttered her hands at him.

  “The gift you gave me, I can never repay.” She’d nodded over to the sink, where a hand pump now provided her water inside the house.

  “The best thing you can do is tell all your friends.”

  “I will,” she said with a nod. “I most certainly will.”

  After breakfast and a couple of hours on the road, they saw a sign that said their destination was one-half mile ahead.

  “We should be set up by dinnertime,” Joshua said, clucking to the team to pick up their speed.

  Gilbert, who was riding with him this time, looked up from the spoon he was carving. “Not that you don’t cook fine, but it don’t measure up to the meals these places gave us.”

  “I know. We need to find a store and get some supplies too. Did you happen to bring a rifle along?”

  “Nope. You?”

  “Some fresh meat would taste mighty good.”

  “Trygve says he used to get lots of rabbits with snares.”

  “That’s a downright good idea. Why don’t you jump down and go back and tell him that.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Joshua cringed inside at the yes, sir. Was he getting so old that young men could call him sir? He wasn’t even thirty yet. He slowed the team, and Gilbert jumped down. Driving a team was always good thinking time, especially if he was alone. What would Astrid be doing now? She’d said she was memorizing a lot of Scripture. Driving the wagon would give him plenty of time for that, if only he had brought his Bible. Drawing his pencil stub and a piece of folded paper from his pocket, he jotted himself a barely legible note.

  They turned into the lane leading to a farm that needed a good hand at fixing. The fence around the house had enough missing poles that a herd of beeves could go through at once. Boards covered a broken window in the house, and the steps would require careful maneuvering. A dog whose ribs were near poking through his hide came from under the porch and wagged his tail as if barking took more energy than he could summon. Off in the pasture a couple head of cattle stood listlessly in the shade of a barn that wouldn’t provide a lot of protection in the winter.

  Joshua had the strongest urge to turn around and head on up the road to the next farm on his list. Instead, he halted the horses and sat studying the house while Trygve pulled up beside him. They exchanged looks that matched in foreboding. This farm didn’t seem ready to be a customer.

  Joshua climbed down from his seat on the wagon and set his hat more firmly down on his head before heading to the house. For some reason, the thought of hallooing to announce their arrival didn’t appeal. He bent down and petted the dog that joined him.

  The front door had no screen, and when he knocked, no one answered. “Did they go off and leave you, fella?”

  The dog sat and scratched his ear with a hind foot.

  Joshua knocked again and, when no one came, peered into the window. A curtain covered just enough of the window that he couldn’t see much beyond the rotting fabric. Surely they had the wrong place. The door was locked. He turned and looked over the land, heaving a sigh as he did so. The urge to go on took him to the edge of the porch, but something else pulled at him to go look in back.

  He walked on around the single-story house and climbed the back stoop to rap on the door. No answer, but at least the handle turned on this one.

  “You want me to come in with you?”

  Joshua jumped at the sound of Trygve’s voice from near behind him. “I guess. You s’pose they just went off and left everything?”

  “The dog and the cattle even?”

  “I know.” Joshua pushed open the door and stepped into a pantry. Two more steps and he was in the kitchen, which smelled musty. A cold cast-iron stove stood against one wall, a table with four chairs took up the middle. “Anyone home?” he called. The house hunkered down, holding its secret close. Even the air felt heavy. A closed door most likely led to the bedroom. He opened the door, which creaked like it was nearly rusted closed.

  “Oh, Lord.” He breathed the words in the way that said both prayer and exclamation.

  “How long you think they been there?” Both men stared at the two figures lying side by side in the bed, the quilt pulled up to their chins. The man lay on his side, the woman on her back.

  Joshua closed his eyes and backed out of the room, shutting the door as he went. He headed for the back door, in a hurry to get the smell and sight banished from his mind. How long had they been dead? Weeks? Months? Had no one come by and checked on them? Had they been sick? How sick? Questions that had no answers.

  “What do we do now?” Joshua asked and then took a deep breath of the fresh air.

  “We feed the dog and check on the animals.” Trygve sucked in a long breath also.

  “And one of us rides to the nearest town and reports to the sheriff that these two people are dead in their bed.” Joshua realized he was hoping Trygve would volunteer but knew
he’d have to do it. “Let’s unhitch the horses and see what we can do about the animals. I’m wondering where the local church is, rather than the sheriff.” He pointed toward the barn. “Move the wagons over there.”

  Trygve climbed up on the lead wagon and led the way for Gilbert. As they unhitched, Joshua told Gilbert what they found.

  “There’s a grave under that big oak tree,” Gilbert said, pointing his finger at a tree a hundred yards or so behind the house.

  “I’ll go take a look,” Joshua said.

  The questions continued to bombard him as he strode over. The mound of dirt was child size, and a small child at that. A cross made of two flat sticks held together by twine with the name Albion scratched on the crosspiece told the story. Had whatever took the child killed the parents also? Cholera from bad water? Typhoid fever? He headed back to the wagons.

  Trygve stepped down from their wagon with a couple of leftover biscuits in his hand. He knelt down and held them out to the dog.

  “Here you go, boy. I’ll get us some rabbits tonight, and you can have that too.”

  The dog wolfed the crumbled biscuits and, tail wagging, stared at Trygve.

  “Give him one of those eggs mixed with a bit of milk. Too much might make him sick.”

  Gilbert walked back from checking the stock tank. “Dry as dry. What do you think they’ve been drinking?”

  “Perhaps a creek or maybe mud puddles from that last rain. Use some of our water to prime that well and start pumping. Our horses need water also. But smell it and take a small lick first.” He turned to Trygve. “Go ahead and set up camp. There’s a woodpile alongside the house. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “I’ll set a line of snares. Should be plenty of rabbits around here.” He glanced back toward the house. “You don’t suppose they starved to death?”