“If it starts to fall, get out of the way,” Carl ordered. “We do not need any broken bones.”
Ingeborg and Kaaren nodded.
“Thorliff, you hold the horses’ heads,” Roald said. “Go get them some oats first. That will keep them happy.”
Ingeborg started to say something but stopped herself. What if the horses bolted and ran over the boy? He wouldn’t be able to leap out of the way. They would just have to keep the beam steady, that was all.
“On three.” Carl took his end of the beam and Roald grabbed his. Kaaren and Ingeborg stood in the middle. The wagon bed felt hollow beneath their feet.
“One, two, three.” With a mighty heave the men lifted the beam waist high, then chest high, and on up to the top of the wall.
“Now hang on to this.” Roald made sure the women had the beam braced before he climbed down from the wagon and mounted the ladder. Carl did the same at the opposite end of the house.
Belle stamped at a fly and Bob took a step forward, setting the wagon to rocking.
“Whoa!” Thorliff jerked the reins.
The beam wobbled as Kaaren, thrown off balance by the moving wagon, lost her grip.
Ingeborg, caught in the same motion but braced more securely, pushed harder.
Kaaren regained her balance and managed to get her hands back up under the beam just as it wobbled again.
“You got it?” Carl bounded the last three rungs on the ladder and nearly threw himself over the wall to grab the beam.
“Hold those horses!” Roald sounded like the voice of thunder booming from the heavens. He grabbed the beam after Carl by only a moment. The four adults stared at each other, breathing hard.
“Thanks be to God,” Kaaren whispered.
“Amen to that.” Carl took a deep breath and flashed his wife a smile. “You are all right?”
“Ja. But that was close.”
“Thorly, you did fine.” Ingeborg dusted off her hands and climbed down from the wagon.
“They don’t like flies.” Thorliff looked up at his mother, hands still clamped on the reins. “It was a big fat horsefly that bit Belle. I saw it.” His lower lip quivered. He looked up at the men on the ladders as if afraid Far would come down and swat him.
Ingeborg couldn’t remember a time when Thorliff had been struck. He tried so hard, this son of theirs. “You did just fine, son. Just fine.” She spoke the words loud enough so Roald could hear and perhaps take a hint.
“I am thinking there might be a pancake left from breakfast that would go well with molasses for a boy who did such a fine job.” Kaaren stopped beside the two. “You make sure the horses are in the shade, and come with me.”
Ingeborg and Kaaren walked back to the fire. “Mange takk.”
“Ja, to you too. I should have been braced better.” Kaaren shot a look over her shoulder. “I don’t like standing on things to get higher. The way they go up and down the ladders—that is not for me.” She shuddered.
Ingeborg didn’t answer. She knew that if she had to she would climb ladders and roofs and whatever else needed climbing. She’d been a better tree climber than her brothers, another one of those secrets she was careful to never tell her mother.
By moving the beam a bit at a time, pounding a peg to hold it, then moving the ladder and repeating the exercise, Roald and Carl finally dropped the heavy length of wood into the cradle they had carved for it.
Thorliff set up a cheer. Ingeborg and Kaaren clapped their hands. The men both removed their hats and wiped their foreheads with the length of their arms.
“Thanks be to God,” Kaaren murmured.
“Uff da.” Roald shook his head. “That is one heavy chunk of wood.”
“Ja, but we did it, and on the first try.” Carl set his hat back on his head and straightened the brim. “Now we will put up the rafters. They will go up much faster.”
“I am going to make us a special treat for supper, unless you need me anymore.” Kaaren paused in her retreat. At that moment, Gunny let out a lusty wail. “After I feed her, of course.”
By the time it came to do evening chores, all the rafters, some bent and gnarled as branches tend to be, were lashed in place with crosspieces creating small squares up one side. Ingeborg and Thorliff did most of the fetching and handing of things. Ingeborg looked longingly at the ladder. She could tie off the crosspieces as well as the men, since it took nimble fingers instead of brawn. It would free the men up to return to breaking sod.
She gathered all her courage together through the good supper Kaaren had prepared and, after the coffee was poured, said, “Would not you rather be in the fields than working about the house?” At their looks of doubt, she continued. “I could tie off the crosspieces now that the rafters are in place. Thorliff would help me. Then you could return to . . .”
“I will not discuss this further. The answer is no. Tomorrow we will lay the sod on the roof. A woman’s place is not on the roof.” Roald spoke as though she had just suggested he cook the supper while she plow the field.
Ingeborg rose to her feet and dusted off her skirt. “If you will excuse me, I believe I will go for a walk.”
She heard his muttered “confounded woman” as she left the campsite. I was only trying to help; what is so wrong with that? Men are so bull-headed. Leaving Norway didn’t change that. She clasped her hands around her elbows. The newly fallen dew was already dampening the hem of her skirt. The stars seemed so low that if she stood on the ridgebeam of the soddy she could almost pick them from the cobalt sky and save them in her pocket. She swatted the mosquitoes and kept on walking. She didn’t fear getting lost, for their campfire stood out like a beacon on the prairie. As long as she stayed out of the tall grass, she was all right.
What difference does it make who does what as long as the work gets done?
Roald and Carl were just putting away their carving tools when she walked back into camp.
“Mor,” Thorliff called as soon as he saw her. “Where did you go? You missed the römmegrot Tante Kaaren made for a treat.”
“I am sure it was very good. Now you be a good boy and go climb in bed. I will be right there to say your prayers.” Ingeborg poured herself a cup of coffee and followed Thorliff to the wagon. She sat down beside his pallet in the wagon bed and rested her chin on her knees as he prayed. Together they said the Lord’s prayer, the age-old words bringing a measure of peace to her heart. Was the order of things God’s will as her mother had always preached, or did man have a hand in it? She kissed the boy good-night, got into her nightdress, and spread the bed on the ground where she and Roald slept. She fell asleep dreaming of ways to help her husband see the wisdom of her desires.
Finishing the roofing took two more days. The space had narrowed between Roald’s eyebrows as his frustration grew with their missing time in the field. They tried to hurry.
Roald’s pained “Uff da!” caught Ingeborg’s ear. She looked up to see him pulling his leg out of a hole in the row of sod just laid. Crossbars underneath had given way. She could see the debris hanging since she was opposite the gaping open wall the fireplace would fill.
The men stripped back the laid sod, repaired the break, and continued.
“I thought that roof was strong enough to hold a buffalo,” Carl said to Kaaren later.
“Thank God no one was hurt.” Kaaren looked up at the soddy. “You are so close to finishing. It looks like a real house now.”
“Ja, a house with a hayfield for a roof.” Roald drew up his pant leg to see blood soaked into his boot. “Uff da,” he muttered again and went for a washcloth and water.
“Uff da is right.” Ingeborg took the pan from him, pointed to the log stool, and went to the wagon for a clean cloth to use as a bandage. You are so stubborn you could not even look at your leg. Surely you felt the pain when this was cut. As she cleaned and bandaged the wound, she kept her words to herself. She was getting much better at doing that.
“I think we should have a party when we move into our house.
” Kaaren made her announcement the next morning. When no one bothered to contradict her, she continued. “Good then, I will walk over to the Baards and invite them. Which day do you think would be best?”
“We have no time for parties; we have lost too much time as it is.” Roald kept shoveling the eggs and venison into his mouth as if the matter was settled.
“Now wait, brother. A party would be a good idea. We need to take time to thank the Lord for what He has given us, and a little laughter wouldn’t hurt us either.”
Kaaren came to stand by her husband’s shoulder. “True.”
Ingeborg kept silent, watching the scene unfold before her. Would Roald give in to his brother?
“The Baards won’t take a day off. They are further behind than we are.”
“It never hurts to ask.” Kaaren glanced over to where the chickens were scratching in the dirt of their yard. “Those young roosters are about the right size for frying, and I imagine that if we looked under the potato vines, we would find enough new potatoes to make a meal. What do you think, Inge?”
Ingeborg shrugged, but the tilt of her head told Kaaren she agreed.
“Good, it is settled, then?” The statement ended in a question with all their eyes locked on Roald.
“If we spend all of our morning here, that roof will never get done.” Roald strode back to the soddy and hoisted the first block of sod from the wagon bed up to the roof.
Kaaren looked from Carl to Ingeborg and over to Roald. “Next Sunday, then.” They all nodded as one.
Several days later, they moved their boxes and trunks into the completely roofed soddy and stacked them along one wall. The men planned to build two beds along the back wall for the adults. The children would sleep on trundle beds that fit under the big beds during the day.
“Where is Ingeborg?” Roald asked when he returned for dinner the day before the party was to be.
“She took Thorliff to the river. She said it was to be a surprise, but you know Thorliff. He can no more keep a secret than that wind will quit blowing.” Kaaren brushed bits of ashes off her face. Strips of venison hung over the drying racks, along with fish that Thorliff and Ingeborg brought in almost every morning. With the heat of August upon them, they alternately blessed and cursed the wind.
They were halfway through the meal when they saw Ingeborg striding along, carrying a bucket with a tall branch, complete with leaves, in it. Thorliff dragged something with one hand.
Roald and Carl looked at each other and shook their heads. But Kaaren knew immediately what it was. That was why Ingeborg had been digging a hole by the side of the house.
Ingeborg set the bucket in the shade of the soddy and, after washing her hands in the pan, joined the rest of the family at the campfire.
“What are you doing?” Roald asked around a mouthful of bread.
“Eating. Same as you.” Ingeborg handed Thorliff a full plate and fixed one for herself.
Roald didn’t say a word, but his expression said much.
“Far, we dug a . . .”
Ingeborg shushed him with one finger to her lips. “That’s a surprise, remember?”
“You dug up a tree?” Roald set his plate on his knees.
“Ja. For the west corner of the house. It is only a cottonwood, a small one. I want an oak, but that will have to wait until fall or next spring.”
“It will die in this heat.”
“Not if I shade it and keep it watered. You will see.”
“Mor said I should put horse manure in the hole for fertilizer.” Thorliff added, “We are going to plant more trees, all around our house.”
Roald shook his head. “What a waste of time.” His mutter carried back over his shoulder as he went to yoke up the oxen.
Maybe so, maybe no, Ingeborg thought. If it dies, I will just plant another. I will have trees around the house and flowers. She glanced over at the garden where her marigolds were just coming into bloom. The splashes of yellow and gold against the deep green of the bean plants did her heart good. She knew she’d save extra seed so she could give some to other women as they came through on their way west. Even one blooming plant made a soddy a home.
Carl took a few minutes to help her plant the young sapling. “We’ll make a windbreak for it out of part of the canvas from the wagon. But it will take a lot of water.”
“I know. Transplanting it this fall would have been wiser, but I wanted to surprise everyone, and . . . and I needed this tree by the house. Just think, in a couple of years it will be taller than the roof and shading us in the summer.” She wiped the sweat from the side of her face. “And shade is a premium out here.”
“That it is.” Kaaren joined them, Gunny perched on her hip.
They let Thorliff tamp the ground down with his bare feet, the water and soil turning to mud that squished up between his toes. He giggled, splashed some more, and laughed out loud. Gunny waved a fat little fist in the air and chortled along with him as if he were having fun just to entertain her.
Thank you, God, for children who help us smile more. Ingeborg tickled Gunny under the chin for another belly laugh and chuckled along with her.
All three returned to their chores lighter of both foot and heart.
In the morning the leaves of the cottonwood drooped on their branches.
Ingeborg decreed that all the wash water be dumped on the tree. Up to now, it had been Thorliff’s job to carry wash water over to the garden and water as many plants as possible with it.
The next day the Baards arrived, and the fun began. The men talked crops and sod busting nonstop; the women shared the trials and triumphs of creating a home on the prairie.
Penny took the boys off to play, promising they would bring full water buckets back with them. With the meal cooking, Ingeborg took Agnes out to see the garden. Together they picked the beans and pulled carrots for dinner.
“You ever made bean britches?” Agnes asked, holding up a particularly fine cluster of green beans.
“I do not think so. What are they?”
“You dry the beans in pairs like this so you can hang them over a rack to dry. Then when you cook them, you leave them together and add bacon, onion, whatever. I learned the trick from a woman who came up from the south. They do things different down there, you know.”
“We will try it. I have pickled beans in the past, but we must make vinegar first. And we don’t have the jars for canning. Oh, when I think of the pickled herring we used to make! Have you ever tried to pickle other fish?”
Agnes shook her head. “But we used to buy lutefisk in the winter. Maybe the store in St. Andrew will bring in dried lutefisk. And my mother made the best lefse.”
The thought of turning some of her potatoes into lefse made Ingeborg smile. But how would they do that over a fireplace? Lefse needed a large flat surface to bake on, like a stove.
Agnes stood with hands on her hips and looked over at the small field they had planted to grain, corn, and potatoes. “That looks mighty fine. Your wheat will soon be ready for harvest.”
“And the oats. Thorly and I, we dug under the vines last night and stole a few small potatoes for dinner today.”
“New potatoes?” Agnes clutched the bunch of carrots she’d just pulled to her bosom. “You are a gift from God, my dear, sent to bring happiness to my soul. New potatoes. When I think of our garden in Ohio, I . . .” Agnes shook her head. “No, I won’t think back. My garden is late this year, but we will have food from it. Just pray God we have a late frost.”
When they had the vegetables cooking, they strolled over to the soddy.
“Now, ain’t that just fine.” Agnes stood in the center of the room and looked around. Just the night before, Roald and Carl had set the bed frames, using a board pegged into the wall for one side and a post for the footpost that worked for both beds. “Your men are mighty clever.” She looked up at the pitched ceiling. “You can hang bunches of herbs and even meat from up there. Keep from swishing you on the head, that
way.”
“Once the beds are roped, we will sleep in here. I have sheeting to stuff with hay for the mattresses, or we’ll use the corn shucks.” Kaaren pointed to the future fireplace. “Carl wants to buy a stove, but I think we will do with this for at least a year. Have you ever cooked in an oven in the fireplace wall?”
“No, can’t say that I have. I miss my stove more than anything. But it was just too heavy to bring along. Joe says maybe by winter we can get one.”
After grace they all fell to the meal as if they hadn’t eaten for a month of Sundays. Kaaren’s plum pie was the hit of the hour.
“Looks like we licked the platter clean.” Kaaren held up the two pie pans. She’d baked them in the spider in a pit of coals.
“I never thought you could turn out such perfect baking without an oven. You two are geniuses, far as I can see.” Agnes shook her head. “Penny, you go on over to the wagon and bring me that parcel I packed.”
When the girl returned, Agnes drew out a jar. “Here. We found us a bee tree and helped ourselves. Thought you might like some too.”
“Honey.” Kaaren and Ingeborg passed the jar back and forth, admiring the deep golden color.
“There’ll be more where that came from. We left plenty for the bees, and they got right back to work.” Agnes snagged her toddler away from the edge of the fire. “You seen that Metis woman lately? I wanted to thank her for the hammock idea.”
“No, she goes farther north to be with her family she said. She will return before winter.” Ingeborg looked up in time to catch a scowl on her husband’s face. He hadn’t asked about Metis, and she hadn’t offered. He probably thought she’d gone for good.
Saying goodbye when the sun started toward the horizon was made all the more difficult after having become better friends.
“We will help you raise your soddy soon as you say the day.” Roald stood by the rump of the horses now hitched to the Baards’ wagon again.
“I figure September—late like. I got to get a beam cut and braces.”
“We could bring one or come a day early for the cutting.” Carl put one foot up on the wheel spokes.
“I couldn’t ask that of you.”
An Untamed Land Page 25